


Plausible Deniability

by IFuckingLoveBees



Series: Loose Ends [7]
Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Age Difference, Also heavily influenced by Black Sails which you should watch, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consensual use of aphrodesiacs, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Historical references because I'm a massive nerd, Jim Hawkins has daddy issues, M/M, OC's as secondary characters, Past Child Abuse, Post-Graduation, Size Difference, Tagged as underage because it's canon in this series that it happened, There is exactly one use of the word “daddy” in this fic and its not where you’d think, Trust Issues, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 62,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IFuckingLoveBees/pseuds/IFuckingLoveBees
Summary: “Sometimes at night, when he’s alone in his room at the rebuilt Benbow, he talks aloud in the emptiness about those last few minutes. The only one there to hear him is Morph, who had seen the whole thing anyway and hadn’t been phased by it, if he noticed at all.He’s told himself that when he graduates he’ll make an excuse to his mom and run away for a month, find Silver, wherever he is, and make whatever plans he needs to stay there forever.”
Relationships: Jim Hawkins/John Silver
Series: Loose Ends [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1315481
Comments: 38
Kudos: 85





	1. Contempt of Court

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey guess who’s still kickin’? It’s me! This took fuckin forever to write and has more plot than all of it’s precursors combined. I’m not sorry about that, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I’ll take any excuse to put these two in a room together. This can technically stand on it’s own (I think) but you’re probably better off reading the other six (holy fuck) fics first. They’re mostly smut and relatively short, and if you like them this should be right up your alley. Conversely, if you do not enjoy my other content, this probably isn’t for you! 
> 
> Disclaimers:  
> \- There’s OC’s as secondary characters in this. I know most of y’all don’t give a fuck, and I’m sorry, but I got bit by the plot bug and needed some extra bodies to fill out the cast.   
> \- I am one (1) very tired twink and I don’t have a beta reader. If there’s typos or I missed a word, feel free to let me know in the comments and I’ll (probably) go back and fix it.  
> \- I have tagged for everything that I think could be triggering, and will leave a small reminder in the notes before each chapter so you know what you’re getting into. If you are unsure about if something will trigger you, you are always welcome to message me on my tumblr or twitter (same usernames) and I will give you as much information as you need, no judgement.  
> \- Please don't take anything that isn't explicitly educational (here or anywhere else) as sex ed or sex advice, if you want to learn more you can visit this page [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863418) where I've linked some good resources for sexual health and education. Stay safe.

Contempt of Court:  _ The offense of being disobedient to or disrespectful toward a court of law and its officers. _

* * *

The Royal Academy is, in a word, boring.

The recommendation from Amelia was a godsend, and Jim doesn’t regret the time he’s spent here. That kind of experience would’ve been near impossible to get in the same timeframe on a regular ship, and he’s not sure he could stand an apprenticeship. His superiors are infuriating enough as it is. Jim long ago lost count of how many times he’s had to bite his tongue to keep a sharp reply from taking form.

He can’t do the kind of flying he wants here, or the kind of fighting he’s used to. All of his scraps before had been schoolyard brawls or the most literal fights for his life. Sparring with a partner feels incredibly restrictive, after that. Everything that used to give him freedom is bogged down with rules and restrictions. No flying after dark, he has to announce where he’s going and what path he’s taking, landing is controlled and he can’t go above a certain speed without incurring the wrath of his superior officers. 

The good news is he’s in great shape now. All the stretches and exercises they had him doing first year stuck and now he can sprint across the training field in ten seconds flat before sliding to his belly to aim the rifle slung over his back. 

The bad news is, every time somebody gives him bedroom eyes, he feels a pang in his gut and wishes he was halfway across the galaxy somewhere, meeting Silver’s eyes over a crowded hall and knowing without a doubt they’re gonna meet in his cabin later. 

That’s the worst part about living in a dorm with a half dozen other people. Every time somebody in the two adjoining rooms takes another cadet to bed Jim can hear every detail. The paper thin walls were probably supposed to dissuade cadets banging each other, but it just means everyone in the vicinity can listen in and cheer on the one who got some tail. 

Or, in Jim’s case, lay miserable in bed thinking about the next time he gets to see the one person he hasn’t been able to take his mind off for the past four years. He can’t even rub one out without getting shit from the other cadets for the next month and a half.

The official story is this: Jim had noticed Silver was missing when the crew of the Legacy were celebrating their survival of the planet’s explosion. He’d gone down to the bay to investigate and found Silver preparing to flee the scene. Everyone else was up on deck trying to get the Legacy to port, which was why nobody bothered to look for them or investigate the commotion down in the hold.

Jim told the officials who came to collect his statement that a scuffle had taken place and he’d been overpowered. Once Jim was on the floor Silver had presented him with the business end of a pistol and held him there until the longboat was out of sight. The tracker in the ship had been damaged in the explosions, and nobody questioned the very precise place the debris had fallen onto the console to damage the tracker but nothing else of value. The pocket full of treasure, Jim explained, had been snatched ages ago back before the planet started exploding, and the bruise on his upper arm shaped like a massive hand print was the only remaining mark of the fight he lost. The investigating council took the story at face value. A pirate threatening a civilian wasn’t unreasonable, as explanations went, and they dismissed Jim without a second thought. 

Jim’s mother and Amelia (and, by extension, Dr. Doppler) were the only ones he told the truth to. The closest approximation of the truth, at least. He told them about following Silver down to find him readying a skiff for takeoff. He told them about the teary goodbyes and the hug, and how Silver had finally gripped him hard by his upper arms and pushed him away even though he could see how much it hurt the man to do so.

He suspects his mother knows this isn’t entirely the truth, but she’s never pressed him on the matter and he’s not inclined to give up the whole story without good reason. It was hard enough having Amelia spill the messy truth of it to her before Jim had a chance to explain, he doesn’t want to push his luck.

Sometimes at night, when he’s alone in his room at the rebuilt Benbow, he talks aloud in the emptiness about those last few minutes. The only one there to hear him is Morph, who had seen the whole thing anyway and hadn’t been phased by it, if he noticed at all.

His mother wants him to find someone else. That unspoken truth between them is the one thing that’s changed, but Jim can’t resent her for it. She’s never unkind or forceful. She’s set him up on the occasional meeting with a handsome guy from town, but she always seems quietly resigned when he comes home alone. He knows she’d rather he settle down with someone his own age, but she doesn’t press him on the matter and he’s grateful.

He tries to pretend like he’s thinking about his career path after the quickly approaching graduation, but honestly he already knows what he’s going to do. He’s been composing a suitable note in the back of his mind for a year, and every time he wants to write it he has to stop himself, because he can’t leave yet.  He’s told himself that when he graduates he’ll make an excuse to his mom and run away for a month, find Silver, wherever he is, and make whatever plans he needs to stay there forever. 

Because just seeing the man once isn’t going to be enough. Silver could be doing the most dangerous or menial work in the galaxy and Jim would gladly give up his life of adventure to join him. 

He doubts that’s the case though. 

Every now and again he passes through Maycors hall, a white marble and ivory lined building where the aspiring officers train and take their courses. The cadets in the officers corps are training to hunt down pirates, primarily, and while Jim had considered it as a path he’d ultimately decided against it. On top of adding an extra year to his studies, all the students in that avenue harbor a deep distaste for anyone who breaks the law, no matter how justified. It never sat right with Jim, and the officers corps students take themselves way too seriously. Every student he’s ever met from that sector has been an uptight, snooty, asshole, to the point where he sometimes wonders if it’s an entry requirement. 

But he walks through the hall sometimes, and stands against one wall in the archive room and stares at the one across from him, lined with neat, orderly rows of wanted posters. 

Some of them are old, faded and yellowed with age, and very rarely they’re replaced with newer papers, some listing new offences or higher bounties. Others are torn down altogether, and the next time Jim visits he sees a new name in it’s place.  He goes partly out of fear, because every day he fears he’s going to witness the archivist come and tear down the poster he’s staring at, never to replace it. The other reason is simply because he misses getting to look at Silver. 

It’s hard for him to forget Silver, the way he looked at Jim with such affection, the way he would ruffle the younger man’s hair or touch his shoulder when he’d done well, among other things. The poster is a poor replacement, but it makes it a little easier to remember the features he knew, and warms his heart with the knowledge that he got to see a side of the man that nobody else did. 

The most up to date information places Silver in the Carinean nebula, an area run by a conglomerate of pirate crews calling themselves The Fleet. All the naval installments set up have been unable to locate the home base, despite information feeding in confirming that the pirates have a base of operations within travel distance of all their frequented locations. 

Jim keeps an ear out for any information. The archivist, a stout, portly man with glasses and a bad smoking habit is more than happy to assist him in staying up to date. He occasionally pulls Jim aside and hands him a paper with the newest data, which the boy pours over gladly.  The archivist is nice enough. He’s more than willing to let Jim satiate his curiosity, assuming like all the other higher ups who know the story that he’s in search of retribution against the man who’d betrayed him. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth, but they don’t need to know that. The tiny tidbits he gets from the stories of those who encounter The Fleet barely give him anything to go off, and frequently the stories contradict one another, to the point where Jim wonders sometimes if the writer ran afoul of the pirates at all. 

By most reports the crews aren’t cruel, not the way the men on the Legacy were, but they’re still primarily pirates, and Jim harbors no illusions about what he’ll be walking into. He knows pirate crews operate differently from naval installations. Much of the area is controlled by them rather than the navy, which speaks to a great degree of willpower by the people in charge. Thus far, the navy have been hard pressed to keep even the most well fortified port under their thumb. 

It doesn’t matter. He has his path into the nebula charted, and he knows exactly where he’s going when the time comes. All he needs to do is get close enough for Morph to deliver his message, and he’ll trek through a warzone if he has to.

* * *

Graduation, like the rest of the Academy, is a drawn out boring affair. Jim wanted to skip it all together but his mother had made him promise to attend, and so he sucks it up and puts on his starched uniform and stands in the beating sun. He’s perfectly at attention like a good little soldier, but privately loathes the obsession the Academy seems to have with white _.  _ The uniforms, the marble pillars, the stones lining the pavilion itself, everything is  _ white  _ and Jim feels a little bit blind after staring around at the bleached world all day.

He spares a wry smile partway through, wondering what Silver would think of this. He’d probably find it endlessly amusing, he decides, because Silver was never above letting Jim suffer a little. He hopes there would be some pride there, too, despite the unfortunate implied career path, since it was really Silver who drilled some sense into his stubborn ass. 

At the end of it, when he’s finally allowed to go find his mother, she’s smiling at him so proudly he can’t help but think it was all worth it. He’s not the same rebellious kid that ran off on a whirlwind adventure four years ago, this has proven that a hundred times over. 

Mom hugs him and cries, and Jim lets her. Morph has been left at the inn, and Jim misses the little shapeshifter sorely but he knows this kind of thing would only have bored the little fella to death. When the Dopplers sidle up Jim smiles at them, and his mom turns to them and gushes about how good he looks in his pressed clothes. Delbert agrees, as does Amelia, but the feline captain gives him an analyzing look that he knows means bad news.  She elects to withhold her judgement for the time being, and Jim nervously awaits it equally as much as he’s glad to be putting it off. It’s childish, he knows, but there’s always been a little bit of a strain between them since the end of the treasure planet voyage. 

It’s no secret what it is, but he ignores it. She’s not going to change her mind after all this time, and he’s not going to change his. 

Jim gathers up his bags from the dorms and follows his mom to the planetary shuttle. One of the few perks about being an Academy student, Jim finds, is that all his clothes and things he needs can fit in two duffles and sit nice and tidy at his back. He gets a few stares courtesy of his pressed clothes in the mass of spacers and deckhands, but nobody bothers them and they make it home without incident. 

The ride up to the inn is one Jim never gets tired of. It’s been in it’s fully rebuilt state for a couple of years now, but still it’s jarring to see so much more of it than he’s used to. When the two of them arrive Jim drags his bags up to his room. Morph greets him enthusiastically, and Jim grins and pets his companion. 

His mom planned a party to celebrate, because she’s wonderful and incredible and isn’t satisfied unless she’s working herself into a mess. 

He lingers in his room, closing the door and pulling out the paper and pen he’s been saving for this exact occasion. He’s had the words written in his mind for more than a year now, but he hasn’t dared put them down on paper for fear that the removal of the final obstacle would be enough to send him haring off after Silver in the middle of the semester, never to return. Now that he can write it without fear of being overwhelmed by the desire to fly out after him, the words come as easily as though they’ve been waiting at his fingertips the whole time.

He pauses at the window, tracing a finger over the wooden sill. It’s smooth, sanded to a silky finish and in excellent condition after so little use these past few years. 

Jim smiles to himself. The spot where he’d picked away at the wood with his fingernails is gone now. The place where’d he would sit and stare out at the docks, waiting anxiously for his fathers return. The little notch in the sill where he’d driven his pocketknife after Leland had left is gone now, not even a scar to remind him of it’s existence. 

The room looks the same, almost exactly, but it’s better, stronger than before. 

Jim really doesn’t want to go downstairs. His clothes are uncomfortable and he wants nothing more than to crawl out onto the roof and stare up at the sky until the stars are visible and calling to him again. 

But he’s not the sullen kid he used to be, and so he grins and bears it and goes downstairs to please his mother.

Jim doesn’t have to try hard to enjoy himself. He catches himself grinning and laughing along easily most of the time, without having to pretend. Seeing his mom so happy, seeing Amelia and Delbert and their kits. It’s joyful and rowdy and he finds time to dance with his mother, to sit with the Doppler’s kids and to watch the kittens chase playfully after Morph while the youngest pup struggles to keep up with his older sisters. 

He’s reminded of another, similar night, three years ago now. The night the Benbow reopened, the night Jim was officially accepted into the Academy. It was a bittersweet occasion. Getting to see mom happy, to see Amelia and Doppler and their newborns. 

There was only one person missing then, and his smile falls a little at the thought.

He schools his face back into something joyous. If mom caught him brooding she’d want to know what’s wrong, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her. Not tonight. Later is for future Jim to deal with, for now he can pretend he’s whole and happy.

It’s a goodbye, though Jim is the only one who knows it. It’s not for forever, or even a particularly long time, but he knows that after tonight things will be different, and he wants to make the most of this peace. 

Near the end of the night Jim is sitting by the big bay window, slowly nursing a cup of watered down rum, which he’s recently acquired a taste for. There’s abundant light and laughter inside, but instead Jim chooses to gaze out over the path up to the inn, dark and empty. The sky is dark and scattered with stars and again that urge to fly out and weave through them surfaces. He tamps down on it, comforted that he’ll be in his natural habitat soon enough.

He barely notices when Amelia sits across from him, back straight and proper as ever even as she’s smiling at her husband. Her face schools into a serious expression as he turns to her, and Jim knows he’s about to get that lecture her gaze promised earlier. 

“Congratulations, Jim.” She says. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles. After all this time he’s still shit at taking genuine compliments.

“I did hope to catch you to discuss a potential job opportunity I have, should you be interested in travelling the far reaches still.” Her hands are folded on the table primly and her eyes are sharp where they gaze through him. 

Jim swallows the mouthful of grog he’d taken, giving himself time to think. He’d expected something like this, but he’d hoped to have an idea of what to say before it came up.

“I appreciate the offer, really Captain, but I kinda have something lined up already.” She’s a family friend as much as Delbert is now, but Jim still falls back into the old formalities on occasions like this. But then, she still calls him ‘James’ when she’s in a serious mood, so he figures they’re even.

Her ears twitch minutely, but Jim has gotten good at reading her body language these past years, and he knows that means she’s thinking. 

“I wasn’t aware you had any offers pending.” 

He shrugs. 

“Met a recruiter by chance, said he was looking for a navigation guy. I happened to be a good fit.” It’s not his best lie, not by a long shot, and from her expression Amelia likely knows he’s not telling the whole truth.

Still she dips her head and cedes, and her face takes on a distinctly warmer tone after that. She reaches out and touches her fingertips to Jim’s forearm, surprising him. Amelia has never been especially tactile, or very interested in giving comfort, but she’s clearly making an effort here.

“Should you need anything, James. Anything at all, I would like you to consider my assistance at your disposal.” 

It’s meaningful, and there’s an earnestness in her eyes that speaks of things neither of them are saying. Jim gives a sober nod back at her. 

And then the room gets several degrees warmer as Amelia stands and moves away from him, walking towards her husband and their children and ending the unofficial interrogation.

Jim lets out a breath of relief. 

The rest of the night passes in a breeze. Despite the uncomfortable clothing and brief uncomfortable conversation, Jim still finds himself wishing it would last a little longer. Not badly enough to stay another night, he’s leaving if he has to sneak out his window to do it, but the desire to enjoy a little more time is something he doesn’t feel guilty about. 

Near the end of the evening, when most everyone else has gone home and it’s just the Hawkins’ and the Dopplers, Jim sees Amelia speaking to his mother with her serious face on. He’s just come out of the kitchen from some light cleanup, a futile attempt to give his mom some help before he leaves tonight.  Sarah looks serious, and that is what draws his attention. She’s been nothing but joyful this entire evening, but now she’s in the corner table with Amelia across from her, and they both look concerned. He turns away, still watching with half his vision but not obviously eavesdropping.

The two women look over at him and Jim pretends not to notice. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Amelia gesturing to him with one hand, but neither seems keen to bring it up and the Dopplers head off home without much fanfare soon after. 

Morph has been in rare form all day, but as soon as the inn is empty he’s curling up to sleep in Jim’s breast pocket, and Jim can’t find the heart to disturb him. They’ve got a long journey ahead of them, in the next few days, and so he takes the jacket up to his room and settles it on the nightstand, letting Morph sleep for now. 

He goes back down, peering into all the unoccupied rooms along the way. He knows he’s coming back, but it still feels like he has to memorize everything. 

Sarah is cleaning up, because of course she is. The tables and chairs that had been moved are almost all back in place, and Jim helps with the last few and lets her sit down across from him to hold his hand and tell him once again how proud she is. 

He fetches a couple warm drinks from the kitchen and sits with his mother. She sips hers gratefully and they relax in the amicable silence as Jim looks around at the old turned new. 

The main room looks almost the same. Some of the knots in the wooden boards are gone from where he’s used to, and new ones have taken their place. The place doesn’t have the smell edging into musty territory anymore, replaced with fresh spices and the warmth from the stove. 

He knows he should probably have some complicated feelings regarding the inn having to be rebuilt, but it isn’t trauma that dogs him, it’s relief. The place had felt different, after his father left. Haunted, almost. There was always something hanging over the place. The Benbow inn hadn’t felt like home for a long time before Bones showed up. He’s kind of glad the place was destroyed, that he and mom had the chance to start again, on their terms. 

“Thank you.” Sarah breaks the silence, touching Jim’s hand where it clasps his mug. He looks back to her and smiles, tired but happy. 

“Yeah, of course.” He mumbles. 

She just stares at him, like she can’t quite believe her eyes. Jim quirks an eyebrow at her and she smiles back, beaming and proud and so earnest it makes him feel like she can see the guilty wince he expertly holds back.

“Sometimes I wonder where that little troublemaker went, y’know?” She says, her smile turning dry.

Jim laughs. 

“Yeah, well. I had a lot of growing up to do.” 

It was the wrong thing to say, he realizes too late. The Legacy is a fond memory for Jim, but he knows not everybody believes his side of the story.

He grasps her hand and lets his face turn serious. 

“Mom.” He says, when she doesn’t look away from the window. “I’m okay.” 

“Are you?” 

And oh  _ shit _ , she’s crying now. 

“Are you  _ really  _ okay, Jim? Because if you aren’t-” She bites her lip, sighs, and tries again. “It’s okay, if you aren’t. There’s nothing wrong with you if-”

She presses her hand to her mouth, the knuckles of her other going white around his hand. 

“Mom.” He draws her eyes back to him, squeezing her hand back. 

“I’m okay, I promise.”

She sighs at him.

“I just don’t want you hurting.” She cries.

He holds her hand tighter.  _ Shit,  _ he’s crying now too. 

“I’m not.” He says, and he means it.

Sarah gives one last hitching gasp and then she’s smiling. Jim might be a good liar to anyone else, but there’s exactly two people who have always seen right through him, and for a long time mom was the only one.

She wipes away the tears and clasps his hand, smiling at her boy like she’s scared if she looks away he’ll vanish into the wind.

“I think it’s time for bed.” She announces with a wet, self deprecating laugh. 

Jim’s face falls a little. It’s past midnight but he’s still loathe to end the night. 

“Yeah.” He agrees anyway, giving his mom’s hand one last squeeze before he lets her go. 

Sarah stands and collects their mugs, despite her son’s protests. 

“Let me mother you for a little while longer, okay?” She sighs. 

Jim backs off with his hands up, heading towards the stairs. He stops halfway, drinking in the sights and smells of the inn with every fiber of his being. 

“Goodnight mom.” He calls. 

“Goodnight.” Sarah echoes from around the corner. 

Jim smiles and slips up to his room, to the sleeping Morph and the packed bag and the change of clothes tucked in a bundle under his bed.  He douses the light and crawls into bed, waiting patiently for the silence of night to slip away.

* * *

Jim waits several hours before he even dares to light the lantern on his desk again.

The electric flame flicker to life and he waits, poised to snuff it out again at the sounds of his mother stirring. The inn remains silent around him, and he takes his time to be quiet as he slips on his plain clothes.

He switches his uniform whites for the thick brown coat he’s had for years and a plain shirt and pants. He’ll look like just another spacer wearing these, but that’s the point. Standing out as an Academy cadet in a pirate controlled port could get him killed, and he wants to at least make it far enough to see Silver before he starts trouble. 

He grabs the bag of clothes and essentials that don’t contain his uniform, already having packed it to go. He’s been waiting for this for months now, and he’s more than prepared.

Jim tugs on his boots and grabs two pieces of paper, scribbling a note on the empty one. The first is folded twice and neatly labeled for his mother. The other he tucks into his breast pocket, next to his heart as he prepares to leave.  He places the first note on his bed, clearly visible among the neat sheets. Mom will be mad, she’ll probably have a lot of choice words for him when he inevitably returns, but he really doesn’t want to risk leading an armed naval brigade right to Silver’s door, wherever that may be. 

The lantern goes out again and Jim waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he moves. Morph follows him just long enough to drop into his pocket for a nap. 

He slips out into the hall, rearranging his bag to sit comfortably on his shoulder. The walk down the stairs isn’t filled with the familiar creaks it used to have, and Jim is reminded yet again of how much everything has changed. 

The main room of the inn is dark, and Jim’s eyes still haven’t quite adjusted to the low lighting. All he can see is a strip of the floor where the moonlight slips in, but even that is indistinct and blurry.

He’s halfway across the room when the light flares to life. He freezes, heart thumping rabbit fast and turns to see his mother in her nightclothes, sitting at the table by the window with an air of resignation about her. She’s just to the left of the moonlight, hidden in the shadow, and Jim curses that he didn’t even think to check for her.

He drops his bag to the floor with a thump, aware that the element of surprise has been well and truly lost by now.

“Hey, mom.” He says, his voice unsteady. It’s a pathetic attempt at normalcy, and they both know it.

Jim sighs, suddenly feeling both a hundred years old and like a child about to be scolded. He trudges over to sit in the chair opposite her, easing down with the air of a man watching his gallows being constructed. 

“Is Amelia on her way?” He asks quietly. He’s not stupid, he knows he can be put under house arrest without charges if he’s suspected of something illegal, and running to meet a known fugitive definitely qualifies. 

His mother sends him an unreadable look, and Jim awaits his fate nervously.

“No.” She says.

Jim blinks, surprised. He’s waiting for the catch, the other shoe to drop. 

“She said she thought you’d try something like this.” She looks at Jim with tired eyes. “And I know my son well enough to tell when she’s right.”

He fidgets. Sarah scrutinizes him, like she’s looking for something. 

Something she apparently doesn’t find.

“I’m not going to try and stop you, Jim.” She sighs, like she honestly wants to, like she’s conflicted even now. 

She smiles at him, teary eyed but not one of the fake smiles she wears when she’s trying to put on a brave face. 

“I just wanted to tell my son goodbye to his face, instead of to a letter.” She jokes. 

Jim doesn’t dare feel relief, not when there’s still a chance he won’t make it out the door before being set upon by armed guards, but a tentative bloom of hope blossoms in his chest.

“You… you’re okay with it?” He rasps.

The blossom grows a little more when his mother nods her head.

“I know where you’re going.” Sarah says, then amends quickly. “Or who you’re going to, anyway.” She quirks another weak smile at him and Jim can’t stop the hope from growing still. 

“I won’t tell Amelia, just-” She looks out the window at the grey dawn starting to peek over the horizon. 

Her hand comes down over Jim’s on the table, squeezing with all the not insignificant strength in her deceptively delicate looking fingers. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe.” She’s tearing up, crying, and Jim feels tears in his own eyes as well. 

He gets up and walks around the table to hug his mother tightly, immeasurably thankful and suddenly glad she got wise to his plan. 

“I promise.” He says. There’s no way for him to actually promise that, not when he could very well be walking into a lawless pirate haven, but Sarah likely knows that, and she doesn’t call him out. 

She pulls away from him, holding his face and brushing his hair back the way only a loving mother can. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look this excited since you were a little boy.” She laughs, voice still thick with tears. 

Jim smiles sheepishly at her, blushing a little at the thought but unable to feel guilty about it.

“I’ll come back, mom. I promise.” He means it, and they both hear the thing he isn’t saying just as loudly as the one he is. 

_ “I’m not leaving like dad did.” _

A few more tearful hugs and he’s collecting his bag from the floor and sliding down the hill to the docks. 

It’s a strange kind of symmetry, Jim thinks, to be the one leaving as the first daylight crests the horizon. As the thought crosses his mind he turns at the edge of the pier, waving to his mother who’s still standing at the open door to the inn.

She waves back, and then goes inside and closes the door behind her, and the feeling dissipates. It’s different now, he knows. For the first time since treasure planet the inarticulate thing Jim has been chasing is within his grasp. He isn’t running away from it, he’s running full tilt into it.

He boards his little skiff and casts off, shooting into the distance. He’s not taking the beaten path, he doesn’t want to chance anyone following him, and taking the long way seems the better option.

* * *

Jim brought along enough rations to last for more than a week journeying, and stashed some hidden caches of money around both the boat and his person to pay for supplies should he need to restock along the way. 

Thankfully it doesn’t come to that. Even with the Etherium winds working against him he’d be there in little over two days. With the solar winds calm and docile around his little vessel, it’s just a day and some change he spends on the winding, curving path he’s charted to the Carinean nebula. 

The place is relatively newly discovered. Not within his lifetime, certainly, and probably not within Silver’s either. There’s a small cluster of moons surrounding the large planet, which vanish over the horizon as he nears landfall. The high mountains and towering trees that make up the planet’s surface are a pain in the ass to weave around, but the view is stunning as he approaches. Green and orange mixed into rocky outcroppings that dwarf even the largest ships passing by, nevermind his tiny skiff. There’s two suns, which he’d made a mental note of when he was planning for this, but seeing it is a very different experience. They’re both warm, one distinctly darker red than the other. 

The port isn’t large, contrary to what he’d expected. It’s tucked into the lee of a great stone behemoth, the mountain rising like a tsunami wave and hanging over the docks as if in wait. It’s unnerving, but none of the hundred odd other ships seem concerned, so Jim tries not to pay it mind. 

Finding a place to tie his little skiff is a gigantic pain in the ass. It’s maneuverable, yes, but this is a tremendously busy port and he’s far from the most important person here. He’d like to not be noted at all, which puts making a scene off the table, so he grits his teeth and finds a little used spot further away from the crowd. 

Saying the port is bustling is probably an understatement. There’s all manner of officers corps graduates and dockworkers on hand, most of them species Jim couldn’t name if he tried. The planet is on the edge of the galaxy, and many of the residents are completely new to the grand interplanetary system. He can see a dozen completely unknown facial structures just while tying up his boat, all of them rough and harsh looking. 

Jim doesn’t stare. He still remembers what happened that first day on the Legacy when the crew caught him looking at them, and without anyone around to save him it’s not an experience he’s keen to repeat. 

For all the port is busy, the people look exhausted. Most of them are older, though a few are closer to his age and just as grim looking. Jim resolves to keep his wits about him, in this place. He looks scruffy from the journey, sure, but these people look desperate. 

He backtracks down the docks towards the biggest crowd, searching for an inn for the night. He’d rather not spend it huddled up in the boat, if he can help it. The weather is nice now, but from the hints of a chill on the breeze Jim knows there’s a very real chance of frost when the sun goes down, not to mention the possibility of being mugged. 

As he nears the center of the throng the people start to look a little less haggard, a little more put together. Similarly the navy presence increases, and soon Jim is ducking his head to hide behind his fringe as a troupe of guards pass.  He’s far enough from the academy that none of them are people he recognizes. Even if he did spot someone he knows, he’s not sure they’d recognize him out of his uniform. The academy made them wear those stupid things everywhere, so he’s feeling oddly off kilter in his old getup. 

That isn’t to say he looks the same as he did four years ago. Those last couple years of growing did him good. He’s taller, hair a little shorter and jaw squared with age. He’s kept himself clean shaven, but when he rubs a self conscious hand over his cheek the slight catch of stubble makes him smile privately. 

Finally Jim spots an inn. The building is run down and more than a little aged, but it promises an open room and all he really needs is a secure door and a bed. The rest would be luxury. 

The floorboards creak when he steps into the room he rented for the night. The space is small and dingy, but it has a bed and, more importantly, a locking door. He sets his bag down and sits on the flimsy mattress, digging carefully through his pockets. 

He feels around until Morph’s barely there texture meets his fingers, petting the blob until Morph coos sleepily and wakes up with a dramatic yawn. 

The poor little guy is exhausted, and Jim smiles sympathetically at him. He almost wants to let him rest more, but the suns are already dropping over the horizon, and he’s too eager to wait any longer.

“Sorry, Morph.” He says, patting the blob on the head. “But I’ve got a job I need you to do for me.” 

At that Morph perks up. That phrase has become an unintentional pavlovian response for the shapeshifter. Every time Jim says it and Morph performs, he gets a treat or luxurious foodstuff of his choosing, which is amusingly often something as simple as a piece of fruit. 

Jim pulls the letter out of his breast pocket, unfolding it one more time to look, to check, to make sure. 

_ “I’m at the docks. Come find me, I’ll be waiting. _

_ \- Jim” _

He smiles. It seems stupid, that something so short and simple means so much. But he knows that Silver will understand. 

And if he doesn’t, well. 

Jim gnaws the inside of his cheek, berating himself for even thinking it. Of course he will. 

He refolds the letter before he can overthink it, sealing it with wax from the candle on the window sill. He lets it dry and harden before he picks it up, and then he can’t help pressing his lips to the still warm wax. 

_ ‘Please.’  _ He begs the universe. 

And then he hands the letter to Morph. Even folded into a square it’s almost as big as the shapeshifter himself, but Jim knows he can handle it. His record for mail couriering has been impeccable these past few years, the times he’d needed to communicate with his mom and hadn’t been able to wait for the regular mail service. 

“Go find Silver.” He says, praying again that Morph does actually know how to find him. 

The little blob’s face lights up and he trills, like he’s been waiting for this for ages. Jim opens the window and he’s off like a shot, zipping over the docks and between the gulls like he’s just another native animal. 

Jim watches until he can’t see the pinprick of pink in the sea of browns and greys anymore. He folds his arms and rests them on the window, staring out into the port as the suns set slowly. 

The waiting is going to kill him, and he’s not getting any good done sitting here. His stomach growls as if to further the point, and Jim stands up, closing the window with a sigh. 

Some food will do him good, and getting a drink while he’s at it can’t be a bad idea.

* * *

Dinner helps, but the drink was, in fact, a very bad idea. 

He’s not drunk, not completely at least. He’s sober enough to go upstairs and collapse onto his bed, locking the door after him and grimacing as the springs creak angrily.

He’s tired, and stressed. The journey was more than a day and he didn’t sleep a wink in all that time, too hyped up on adrenaline and excitement to stop for even a moment. Now that he just has to wait, it should be easy to sleep. 

Except it’s Jim, so it isn’t easy. The only time he’s ever truly slept well was after getting his brains fucked out by Silver and then being huddled against him under the blankets. 

The thought might have prompted a jerk off session at another time, but Jim is a somber drunk, and so it just makes him more upset. It’s not often he allows himself time to ponder on what Silver has done while they’ve been apart. Mostly he thinks he can guess, and mostly it falls under the category of mildly to severely illegal. 

But when he’s like this, tired and lonely and bordering on drunk, it’s much harder to push his thoughts away from all the ways that the universe could fuck him over here, like it so often loves to do.

Maybe the letter was too vague. He’d put as few details in it as he could, in case someone managed to intercept it. Without the context of Silver’s name or even Jim’s full one, the letter would be innocuous to anyone who didn’t know the intended recipient, and useless even if they could guess.

But it’s a double edged blade, because that same plausible deniability could also make it impossible for Silver to find him. 

And then Jim wonders what happens if Morph can’t find Silver at all. It was years ago that he made the offer for Jim to find him, it’s completely possible that whatever method they had will no longer work. 

Jim feels tears prick in his eyes when he thinks of the worst possibility, of Morph coming back alone, without Silver and with a new missive saying all the wrong things. The thought that maybe he’s over Jim. They haven’t had so much as a single exchange in all four years since the Legacy. If Silver wanted to hear from him surely Jim would have got a letter, something? 

His imagination is running wild, Jim knows, but he can’t stop himself. Something about being closer than he’s been in years and yet as far as ever is driving him into a tailspin.

Jim tangles a hand in his hair and pulls, berating himself to calm down. No, he knows Silver is here, he knows Morph can find him, he knows the older man will come find him. All of that is an absolute truth. He can feel it in his core, these are the rules his universe must abide by. 

And so Jim sighs and forces himself to relax, pulling off his boots before crawling fully into the bed. It’s cold in the room, but he’s got blankets and the thought of Silver to keep him warm, and for now that's enough. 


	2. Probation Violation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: smut

Probation Violation:  _ A violation occurs when you ignore, avoid, refuse, or otherwise break the terms or conditions of the probation. _

* * *

The next morning finds Jim strolling the docks, his duffle slung over one shoulder. It’s heavy enough to warrant putting down when he stops, but not so hefty as to be difficult to carry. 

The large ships have the largest crowds, and Jim makes his way back towards the dock where he’d tied his little vessel, away from the crush. The people here might be desperate, but there’s few enough that he sticks out as clean and well kempt even from a distance. Which, in this case, is precisely what he wants. 

He sidles up near a ship with the shape of a wing emblazoned on the side. It names itself The Falcon, and a few men are unloading the cargo bay when Jim stops to watch. 

It’s as good a place to wait as any, and Jim picks an out of the way spot to drop his bag at his feet and stand. The men are slow and lazy, most of them wholly uninterested in their trade. The captain appears to be absent and none of them seem inclined to get work done unless the whip is being cracked at their backs.  But they leave Jim alone as he stands across the way, aside from a few curious glances, and that’s all he needs. 

The day is crisp and cool, and the wind ruffles his hair. It feels playful, and already he feels more hopeful than the night before. Aside from a few wispy clouds the sky is clear and both suns are warm on his face. 

The morning passes slowly, and if it weren’t for the excitement and nerves this would almost be relaxing. Lounging on the docks, watching ships pass overhead and around him. The new species are fascinating to watch, the way they move and talk. It’s clear this place has a whole culture behind it that he’s not privy to, and it makes the part of him that was so desperate to explore the farthest reaches of the galaxy perk up.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that when Morph coos and rubs on his cheek, he doesn’t react at first. He’s spent so long with the shapeshifter that he’s used to having him near at all times.  And then his brain grinds to a halt and he stares at the little blob who’s chittering with audible excitement as he flutters around Jim. He’s almost scared to look, but he sees Morph chirping to someone to his right and he can’t hold back any longer. 

And he finds Silver standing there. He’s a little ways off still, clearly Morph spotting Jim first and raced to meet the boy. He’s smiling, soft and hesitant and like he honestly can’t believe it, and Jim knows the feeling. 

He looks almost exactly the same as the last time Jim saw him. He sticks out in the crowd, as much as Jim does. The jacket is more worn, just slightly, and Jim probably wouldn’t have picked up on it if he hadn’t spent the last four years fantasizing about being held tight enough to feel the material on his cheek. 

Jim has to restrain himself from running full tilt and crashing into Silver. He wants to,  _ god _ he wants to, but he’s nervous about making a scene in font of all these people. A reunion between old friends is one thing, but he doesn’t know if he can stop himself from kissing the older man if he gets too close. It’s just the way gravity works between them. A force of nature. Inevitably whenever he ends up near Silver their mouths meet, and he doesn’t know what will get him put up on public indecency charges here. 

So he picks up his bag and walks over, trying to keep a calm, sedate pace even as his grin is threatening to split his cheeks.  He stops a foot away, and the hesitance becomes stronger as Silver eyes him. 

“You’ve grown.” He says, flicking a hand and looking Jim up and down. It’s not more than a few inches, and Jim wouldn’t have been surprised if Silver didn’t notice, but of course he did. 

“Late growth spurt.” He grins. His smile is still wide enough to hurt, but he’s not stopping now. Not ever, maybe.

Silver claps him on the shoulder and Jim leans into it.  _ Fuck,  _ he’s missed this. The casual affectionate touches that nobody else gives him. 

“Ye look good, Jimbo.” He says, earnest, and Jim almost melts right there. 

“You don’t look too bad either.” He says back. Silver’s slightly nervous look turns into a genuine smile then, and Jim grins even wider. He’s missed this so  _ damn much _ . 

Something awkward settles between them, for a moment. The utter euphoria of finally seeing Silver face to face and the overwhelming amount of things to say leaves Jim mute. He wants to blurt out everything and at the same time nothing can express how long he’s been waiting for this. 

He finally clears his throat and summons his words.

“Well, do I get to come with you or do I have to stay here?” 

It’s maybe a bit presumptuous to assume Silver will take him home, wherever home is, but this is  _ Silver _ . If Jim can be presumptuous with anyone, it’s him. 

The tension vanishes as the older man claps him on the shoulder again and he turns. His arm stays around Jim’s shoulders in a way that could be simple friendliness, to an outsider who doesn’t know better. To Jim it feels like more than that, though. 

“You aren’t leaving me sight, ‘f I can help it.” He says, lowly, and Jim’s face heats up as he’s laughing. The older man steers him down the pathway, Morph cooing and dancing around them like he’s in heaven. 

The little longboat Silver stops at isn’t much bigger than the one Jim had arrived in, and is much more clearly refurbished. It’s small, but from the shape and the clear modifications that have been made, it must be fast. 

Jim boards without a seconds hesitation. He’s been waiting for this moment for literal fucking years, he’d hotwire the ship and fly it himself if he had to.  Silver boards after him, and they fall back into the same position as the longboat on the Legacy, all those years ago. Jim lets Silver lead this time, since he has both no clue where they’re going and not the faintest idea how to pilot this particular craft. 

A hand settles onto Jim’s shoulder somewhere during takeoff, and he looks at Silver over the engine and gets a sideways glance. It’s hesitant again, like Silver is afraid Jim will shake him off, but the younger man just flexes his shoulder into it and leans back. 

The hustle and bustle of the port vanishes as they wind into the trees. Jim watches the ships get fewer and farther in between, and instead of flying out into the flatter forests as he’d expected Silver guides them into a rocky canyon lined with tall, sparse greenery and a river winding underneath them. 

The port disappears completely around a bend in the canyon, and the telltale sound of the engine slowing meets Jim’s ears. 

It’s hardly settled to an idle before he’s turning and pouncing on the older man. He’s sick of pretending that the time and the distance wasn’t slowly killing him. He opens his mouth in a desperate kiss, and Silver kisses back, just as hungry. It turns dirty as Silver slips his tongue into Jim’s mouth, but the boy just keens and clutches at him needily. Chaste or not, the amount of affection behind the kiss far outweighs the lust. Jim feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he refuses to let go of the older man’s collar. Silver hums into his mouth and supports him with a hand on the back of his neck, keeping Jim close enough to touch even when the kiss breaks and they’re both gasping for breath. 

Soft laughter shakes Jim’s chest, and the sound is echoed by the larger man. He pulls Jim back and stares fondly, expression pleased and a little relieved as the boy nuzzles into the hand cupping his cheek. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long.” Jim whispers. The emotion is thick in his throat and he can’t quite keep from choking on it. He’s not crying, but it sounds like he is, and that alone says everything about just how much he’s missed this. 

Silver wraps his other arm around Jim's and presses his nose to his forehead, scenting him thoroughly. Neither of them want to let go, but eventually Silver nudges Jim’s cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“Plenty a time to catch up later, lad. For now let’s get you somewhere safe.”

The curiosity about where they might be going overtakes Jim, and he settles back on the other side of the engine. That promise of later helps him relax. He’s with Silver, he’s  _ home _ again, the rest of the world doesn’t matter anymore.

The little craft zips over the terrain, eating up the expanse like it’s nothing. The canyon walls don’t fall away as Jim had expected, but instead continue towering up and up until the shadow cast by them totally eclipses the suns except from a few angles.  It’s unnerving, and as the path begins to branch Jim hopes Silver knows where they’re going. 

“Easy to get lost in here, huh?” He muses, mostly to himself. The river below has vanished beneath the canopy of needle like trees, but occasionally he sees water spouts in the canyon walls that empty into the vast greenery below. Morph has taken up residence in the inside of his shirt again.

“Called the Skeins. Without someone who knows the area gettin’ in and out’s near impossible.” Silver explains, and Jim smiles dumbly again, because he’s never going to get over having him right here.

“I’m guessing you know the area?” He asks. 

Silver snorts at him. 

“Wouldn’t be going in ‘f I didn’t. Like ye said, too easy to get lost.” He peers down another branching canyon as they pass it. 

Jim lets the companionable silence settle for a moment, enjoying the wind pulling at his clothes and hair.

“So, where are we going?” He just barely hides the eager smirk in his voice. 

“Nassau.” Silver answers, and laughs when Jim sends him a less than impressed look, still smiling a little. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Jim reins in his excitement. Waiting doesn’t seem so bad anymore, not when he’s got everything he could ever want just an armslength away.

The walls of the canyon continue going higher and the pathways get twistier and narrower by the minute, but Jim isn’t worried. They round a bend where some sunlight is showing, and for a moment Jim is totally blinded by the sudden flood of light over his senses. When his eyes adjust to the change he looks around in open awe.

The canyons walls fall away, showing a crater like the inside of a volcano. They’re too steep to climb, but the angle is wider than the sharp concave of earlier, and the valley inside is washed with sunlight. The rim is uneven, higher where they’d come in and lower on the other side, sloping into a valley that empties into a green blue ocean. 

“Could’ve gone around, but it’s longer by hours.” Silver says. His hand comes down on Jim’s shoulder and he realizes he’s still staring at the scenery. He turns back to Silver, mouth open in an awed smile.

“Also isn’t near as impressive to see the first time.” He adds, and Jim falls just a little more in love with him. 

“It’s amazing.” He says, breathy. “This is where you’ve been?” 

And Silver gets next to him, taking Jim by the shoulder until they’re leaning together and Jim can look down his arm to where he’s pointing. 

“There, that’s Nassau.”

It’s not impressive, at first. All Jim can see is what looks like a small village hanging precariously to the side of the canyon to their left. 

And then he gasps again, looking closer as he realizes it isn’t a village, it’s a group of ships anchored together in the air. They’re so far away they look like houses, and there has to be more than triple the amount that had been populating the port when he’d arrived.  Silver is smiling when Jim turns to him, and he grins helplessly back. He looks proud of himself, and as he sits back to pilot the craft Jim sees him stealing glances at the younger man. Jim looks back, meeting his gaze head on and letting his vision tunnel. The ships are nice, but he cannot honestly say he really cares about that when he could be looking at the love of his life instead.

Flying into the fleet of ships is a strange experience. Jim has seen ships tethered to one another before, but it’s usually three at most and out in open space, not planetside and more than a hundred.  They’re all in good repair, most of them better than even the ones at port, and already the difference is stark. It’s not just the ships, either. The people here also look less haggard. Once or twice they pass close enough for Jim to see crews working together, and all of the workers seem healthy and hale.  Men he expected, and the few women he spots aren’t out of place, but the first troupe of children makes him look twice as the craft passes by. They’re young, the oldest no older than perhaps ten, and they’re running around the deck of a ship with men and women alike watching. They’re playing, Jim sees, and he’s forced to reflect on his assumptions about the people here. 

Silver flies them deeper into the mass, and Jim watches with open curiosity as the loosely tethered ships give way to makeshift docks and walkways. Some ships are so well lashed together they sway in the breeze as one. 

It isn’t until they’re already nearing the open hold of a ship that Jim notices Silver taking them in to land. His heart palpitates suddenly, nervous as the little skiff moves towards a pair of rough looking deckhands.  He cuts a glance at Silver and sees he’s calm, and lets a little bit of the fear dissipate. He trusts the other man implicitly, and he has no doubt that if he were in any danger Silver would at least let him know. 

And so he lets the men help them tie off the skiff, jumping a little as the bay door closes behind them.  Once his eyes adjust to the dark he finds Silver dismounting, greeting the taller deckhand easily. 

“Looks like you found your friend.” The man says in a deep, rumbly voice. He has a look on his face like he’s genuinely pleased to see them, though his companion looks decidedly more aloof. 

“Did indeed.” Silver answers, smiling at the boy as he climbs out of the skiff. Jim jumps a little when he’s met with a great paw of a hand, complete with rough pads on the fingers and palms. 

The deckhand is still smiling warmly. Jim meets the offered palm with his own, only a little bit of hesitance shadowing his movements. 

“Weapon’s master Lovell.” The deckhand says, with a warm smile. “This is my partner, Brash.” 

‘Brash’ snorts and says nothing. 

“Don’t take it personally, he’s like that with everyone.” Lovell murmurs, and Jim surprises himself with a smile. 

“Captain’s waiting for you, she said to come find her when you got back. Something about a supplier being late.” Lovell says, turning to Silver as he speaks. 

The slight smile the older man has had drops a little, but it returns just as quickly. 

“Lets not keep her waiting, then.” He says, seeming entirely unhurried. 

The other two go ahead of them up the stairs, and Jim hangs back. He still feels odd here. Part of him is nervous and wants to take a moment to try and process. His more childish impulses tell him to cling to Silver and refuse to let go, wary of being separated from the man, but before he can voice his concern they’re on deck and it’s too late.

The ship isn’t outwardly different to any other Jim has been on, and he’s a little surprised at that. The crew are milling about in groups, some of them in the shrouds and a couple lounging on deck. None of them look particularly busy. Most of the activity is in the group repairing a sail to one side of the main deck, a low level chatter carrying across the air.

Jim turns around looking for Silver, and finds him conversing with a man he’s never seen before. He’s tall, Silver and him look to be of a height, but this man is slim, almost gaunt where the other is powerfully built. 

Jim catches the tail end of the conversation as he sidles up. 

“It was supposed to be here this morning, but nobody showed. No communication, no letter, nothing.” The thin man says. “Captain thought to send someone scouting for it, see if Harker got lost.”

He turns to Jim as he walks up, and his eyes narrow sharply. He looks between them, like he’s parsing something out, before a door slams and everyone turns to the captain’s cabin. 

The captain, when she walks out of the cabin, is not what Jim had expected. Though, admittedly, he has little idea of what that would have been.

She’s taller than he is, muscular and with an air of easy confidence that’s visible from even a cursory glance. Her hair is a rusty, reddish brown, he notices, and she looks remarkably pleased to see him for a woman Jim has never met. She’s smirking. Her lips curl into a crooked smile and her eyes crease at the corners. There’s a knowing, in that gaze, something cunning and clever that Jim recognizes. 

“Well, you’re the famous Hawkins then?” She asks, voice a sure, calm, drawl. She sounds like Silver, same vocal mannerisms and it’s jarring, to hear that in a female voice.

“This’s him.” Silver puts his hand on Jim’s shoulder again, grounding and hinting at the younger man to relax.

He looks between Silver and her. They don’t look very much alike, but the expression on her face is too familiar to be coincidence. They’re two of a kind, obvious in everything from the tiniest twitch of her ears to the slow confident walk the woman exhibits as she circles them. 

“Awful young for ye, isn’t he?” The woman laughs as she comes around the other side, still eyeing Jim sharply. 

As much as her attention being solely on him is unsettling, he likes it far less when she saunters over to Silver and focuses on him instead. 

“Don’t tease the lad, Annie.” Silver warns, but there’s a warmth in his tone that Jim has never heard him use before. It sounds almost exasperated, but also deeply fond. 

“Took ye an awful long time to come back, too. Get lost in the Skeins did ye?” She laughs.

“Had to find him first.” Silver says, and Jim startles when he notices that attention has turned back to him again. “Couldn’t make it too easy, could ye?”

Silver ruffles Jim’s hair, and that rankles him for some reason. He flattens it down again, staring at the captain warily as the two fall into conversation. She’s looking at Silver, paying more attention to him than to the young man standing beside them, and even Silver has his eyes on her rather than Jim.  Anger flashes, bright and unexpected. Jim is surprised at himself, at his sullen irritation directed at this woman, and then it clicks.

Jim has never thought of himself as jealous, but the open, clear affection in the way the woman laughs and shoves Silver’s shoulder makes his possessive streak rear it’s head. He tries to shut it down, to tell himself that she’s probably just an old friend. There’s no reason for him to envy her. 

It’s not just the affection, though. They’re standing close together, grinning and needling at one another. They’re bickering, idly, and with faint smiles the entire time. Jim thinks of the past few years and that bitterness settles in his stomach again, that while Jim was alone and miserable Silver has been spending time bonding with this woman.

Another figure sneaks up, and Jim doesn’t notice until he’s being thoroughly analyzed by a pair of hazel eyes set in a thin face.  He backs up a step in shock and the boy that had been eyeing him puts distance between them as well. He turns to Silver then, a wicked smirk on his face as he interrupts the other conversation currently going on.

“Bit skittish, this one.” 

Silver looks like he wants to reply but the captain beats him to it. She cuffs the boy, catching him over one ear. 

“He’s hardly been here a minute, pup, leave him be.” She says. The boy’s smile shifts then, sheepish, and Jim’s heart drops. It’s familiar, the expression, one he’s seen Silver give rarely but often enough to know at a glance. 

“Sorry mum.” The boy mumbles.

He’s a dead ringer for the woman, but that isn’t what makes Jim’s heart clench. It’s his eyes, and how achingly familiar they are. They’re light brown instead of gray, but they have the same perpetual expression of laughter. And his mouth, when he smiles, is the same cocky, charismatic, easy grin, like he knows something Jim doesn’t. 

It’s a blow Jim wasn’t prepared for. There’s other possibilities, of course. It could very easily be a coincidence, but as Jim stares at this boy barely his age, he can’t think of anything other than the obvious. It never occurred to him that Silver would have had someone else. He never talked about a family, despite Jim’s sometimes prying questions, but that may have been a deliberate misdirection. 

He doesn’t want to believe it, but the woman meets the eyes of the man beside him and Jim sees history there, decades of time knowing each other, and it’s hard to think what else could explain  _ that. _

He tries not to look at the kid, tries to watch the way Silver is looking at the woman. He’s searching for another explanation, but he just sees more affection and camaraderie and his stomach sinks.  They’re talking, something about when they were teenagers, and every feeling Jim has ever had of not being enough rises to the surface. He does what he used to do before the Legacy and hides it, shuttering his expression into a mask of silent, sullen annoyance.

“Ye look lost, pup.” The woman says suddenly, turning to smirk knowingly at Jim. “Don’t tell me my dear baby brother never thought to mention me?” 

Jim’s spiraling thoughts halt completely. Brother. They’re  _ siblings.  _ It seems obvious, now. Of course they’d be close, of course her kid would look like him, like  _ them _ . 

All of Jim’s breath leaves him in a rush. 

“Not really, no.” He mumbles, barely managing that much. The relief is making him dizzy, and he feels even less rational in his jealousy now. 

“Bastard.” She mutters, faux glaring at her brother. “Up to me to introduce meself, I suppose.”

She sweeps down into a dramatic bow, and Jim sees the tall, thin man behind her roll his eyes.

“Captain Anne Bonny, of The Ranger.” She says, in a theatrical voice.

“Call me Annie.” She adds as she comes up from the bow, winking and smirking. She turns to the man behind her, dragging him forward with a hand at his shoulder. 

“My lovely first mate, Jack Rackham.” 

“Just Jack.” The man corrects, sending a disapproving glance at his captain.

The rest of the crew have gone back to their duties, since it’s become clear that the newcomer does not bring with him any additional intrigue. Some of them are lounging about on the deck, the captain’s kid included. It’s just Jim, Silver, the captain, and her first mate still standing. 

Silver is talking to his sister, casual as anything and clearly relaxed. Jack is still eyeing Jim critically, but it’s not the same look Scroop had given him back on the Legacy. It’s curious more than hateful, and Jim watches as a small smile finally cracks the man’s icy facade at something his captain says.  Her hand strays to his hip, one finger hooking in his belt and the man stumbles as he’s yanked off balance briefly. He regains a standing position, now much closer to the captain, and puts a slim arm around her shoulders. 

The captain starts walking away, dragging her mate with her. Rackham doesn’t object to the treatment, dropping his arm to hold her wrist and catch her hand in his, the way Jim has seen from the loving couples around him. 

Anne’s other hand waves over her shoulder and she half turns to shout. 

“Welcome to Nassau, love!” There’s laughter in her voice and Jim surprises himself with a likewise noise.

He’s still a little stunned from the complete emotional heel turn he did just moments ago, but he shakes off the feeling and follows when Silver leads him away from the main deck.

“A’right?” Silver asks him when they’re finally rounding the aft of the ship. There’s a small deck here, relatively isolated and quiet, with no sails overhead or places to eaves drop. Jim lets the tension out of his shoulders as he leans, settling his hands on the rail and looking over the sea of ships filling the canyon. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. S’just… different, I guess.” He looks at Silver over his shoulder. It still feels strange, to look over and see him. It’s a wonderful kind of strange, no doubt, but the paradigm has definitively shifted since they last saw each other. There’s a kind of wrongfootedness now, a sort of hesitance that they both share, like each is scared of overstepping the unspoken boundaries. 

Silver looks Jim up and down carefully. Jim wants so badly to reach out and touch him, to encourage the older man closer, but the words stick in his throat. The nerves from earlier haven’t completely dissolved after all, it seems. He can’t get out a single syllable. 

Finally Silver decides to give in to the steady pull of gravity. He steps up to Jim’s right, close enough to touch but not so close as to break the fragile tension that's formed between them.

“She’s an odd one, Annie.” He trails off, taking the least treacherous path of the conversation. Jim is thankful for that, at least right now. He’s not ready to spill his guts on the deck where anyone could see. Silver comes to rest his arms on the rail, finally putting them on the same level, and suddenly Jim thinks back to that first night on the Legacy again. He’d been so tired and scared and unsure, then, and it wasn’t until after the fact that he realized how little affection he’d been allowing himself. One tiny act of kindness on Silver’s part was enough to blindside him, and Jim knows he fell for Silver a little bit that night.

They’ve both lapsed into silence, and Silver clears his throat before speaking.

“But she won’t let anyone lay a hand on ye, an’ she’s got enough grit to keep even this mangy lot in check.” He gestures a the ships again.

“I wasn’t worried.” Jim says, and he lets himself press their arms together, leaning ever so slightly into Silver, testing the waters. 

The sunlight is bright and warm on his face, but the chill of the breeze still makes Jim glad he brought along his coat. It’s not as harsh here as it was on the docks, but the air is still cool and crisp like Montressor's early winter. One of the suns is setting, casting faint long shadows over the deck even as the other, larger one is roving high overhead. 

“How’d you end up here?” Jim asks, finally turning to look at Silver. 

“Weren’t a matter of ending up so much as coming back.” He explains. “Born and raised near that big port you were at, I only left when the navy came knocking.” 

Jim turns to stare at him, utterly fascinated. Silver had talked about his past, yes, but it had always been vague and devoid of detail. He knows now that was probably an attempt to keep distance, or to keep Jim from discovering his true intentions on the journey. It makes sense, but it doesn’t quench the thirst and curiosity Jim has always harbored for everything surrounding the older man.

“You’re kidding?” Jim can’t stop smiling. “You grew up here?” 

“Oh aye. Annie has the better recollection, she were older when we left home, but I could run that dock by memory soon as I could run.” He grins wryly, nodding in the direction of the port he’d picked Jim up at.

“What was it like?” Jim asks, because he can’t help himself. He’s got Silver alone, telling stories like those late nights in the galley and that uneasiness between them is evaporating. 

“Not near as exciting as yer hoping.” He says, ruffling Jim’s hair. Jim just smiles and lets him. “Mostly worked as dockhands ‘til we were old ‘nough. I left lookin’ fer an adventure, Annie stayed here and built a life for herself.”

“That does sound boring.” Jim says. His eyes are wide though, an expression that says,  _ “I want to hear every detail anyway.” _

He shifts closer, pressing their shoulders flush and pillowing his cheek on his folded forearms. He’s just staring at Silver and listening to him talk and he’s already more contented than he’s ever been in his life. 

The afternoon passes like that, the two of them talking like nothing has changed between them, like the last four years were nothing more than a blink of the eye.  The other sun goes down sometime during their long conversation, but Jim doesn’t notice. The lanterns adorning the ship are lit and slowly the canyon is illuminated by the lamplight from a hundred ships of varying size and condition.

Jim yawns. He’s still exhausted from the journey, and the restlessness of last night barely helped him recover.  He’s mouth hasn’t even closed all the way before Silver is touching his cheek, drawing Jim to face him and smiling at his half asleep expression. He thumbs the joint, with a faintly sad look as Jim clenches his jaw to stifle another yawn and a faint popping noise breaks the silence. 

“Go to bed, lad. There’ll be plenty of time to catch up tomorrow.” 

Jim opens his mouth to protest but then Silver presses his lips to Jim’s forehead, and he falls silent. Silver is right, he’s exhausted and worn out and a good night of sleep will help. He’s still loathe to separate, but he’s not going to argue. At least, not here.

“Okay.” He agrees, not hiding his slight frown at the idea. He stands, stretching his arms that have been in the same position for what feels like ages. 

“I’ll see you later?” He deliberately leaves it open ended. 

“I’ll be about.” Silver affirms on a chuckle, and Jim breathes out, smiling. He can relax, now. 

He trots off towards the main deck, managing to get caught by the young man from earlier in the day. Connor, as he introduces himself, offers to show Jim to the bunks. His smile is easy and genuine, and Jim spares only a single backwards glance as he descends into the warmly lit ship’s interior.

* * *

Silver isn’t surprised when Annie saunters up and leans against the rail next to him. She’s smoking, wisps of tobacco catching the breeze and vanishing into the night.  She starts laughing, a little. A low, slow chuckle that makes Silver uneasy.

“What?” He asks finally when she doesn’t seem inclined to stop on her own.

“You fucking would.” She says, after the laughter dies down. Nothing is clarified, and he cocks an eyebrow at his sister.

“Would what?” He mutters, annoyed. How is it he’s managed a dozen wily, backstabbing crews with nothing except his fists, but  _ she _ always seems to get under his skin?

“End up with a navy boy. I’m just surprised you managed to snag such a pretty one. Runs in the family, I suppose.” She’s laughing still, and his hackles go up automatically before he forces them down. It isn’t a threat, or a jab, she’s just being an annoying fuck. Jim isn’t in danger, and he forces his protective instincts into submission.

“Fuck’s sake, Annie.” He mutters to cover his own defensiveness.

“Y’know, my husband had a few choice words fer me regarding your recruit.” 

“He’s not a recruit.” Silver snaps. Annie just raises an eyebrow. 

“Would ye rather I call him your boytoy, then?” She asks faux politely. Gods, she’s such a git. 

Silver rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer, even stifling the growl that wants to fill the night air. If he says no too quickly she’ll start making frequent use of the term just to spite him, and if he says yes he’ll get the same result. The best way to win her game is to not play at all, he’s found. 

“Anyway.” Annie says, on an exhale rich with smoke. “Expect Jack to have a word with you in the coming days. He’s rather concerned about the boy’s well being.” 

Silver tamps down on the sigh. It’s to be expected, honestly. Jack Rackham is a notorious bleeding heart, even among this gentlehearted crew. If anyone would come to Jim’s defense, it would be him. 

“Tell Rackham he doesn’t need to get involved.” He says, though he knows it’s useless.

“I bloody well did, but he’s dead set.” Annie shoots back. She sounds resigned, and Silver privately finds it infinitely amusing that she’s relegated to playing mediator between the two of them. Both of the men combined couldn’t match her level of reckless abandon trying their hardest, and yet somehow she’s the middle ground here. 

“We both know there are far worse things the boy could be doing.” Annie continues, as if anticipating his response. “But you know what he’s like, love.” She implores. She’s pleading with him to let her mated cross examine his and Jim’s relationship. 

Silver sighs, for the upteenth time that night.

“If Rackham so much as threatens Jim I’ll have his head.” He growls.

“You an’ I both know he’s smarter than that.” She says, cutting her eyes at him and showing a hint of her teeth, a challenge. Jim may very well be in the proverbial line of fire here, but this is her mate still, and he can’t forget that. 

And in the end Rackham’s concern comes from a place of care. His and Annie’s cub is nearly Jim’s age, and that likely plays a major part in his scrutiny. 

Silver puts up his hands in surrender.

“At least give the pup a few days to settle in, aye?” 

Annie nods, gnawing lightly on the butt of her cigarette. She’s smoked it down to just the end, and drops it to crush out the ember with her boot. 

“Try not to keep the lad up all night, he looks like he needs his rest.” 

“Goodnight, Annie.” Silver says firmly over his shoulder. The sounds of his sister cackling as she saunters back to her own cabin tells him when he’s alone, and from there he takes his leave. He knows it won’t be long before Jim comes looking for him, despite his words, and he doesn’t want to keep the boy waiting.

* * *

The bunks on The Ranger are unlike any other ship Jim has been on. 

Honestly, it’s more like his dorm from the academy than an actual ship. Some of the officers have their own cabins, shared with partners or single, Connor explains. The rest of the crew have a more cramped existence, but it’s still significantly more private than the room full of hammocks a normal bunk would entail. 

“There’s a barracks.” Connor says, as he’s unlocking a room a the end of a small hallway. “But nobody uses it. The ship was built for minimum three dozen crew to operate, but mum pared it down. We’re working with two dozen.” 

He’s shows Jim to the open bed, which happens to be in his bunkhouse. Even twenty four seems like too much for the few rooms to handle, when Jim peers into the room.  There’s four beds, two along each wall, but only one appears to have a regular occupant. The small porthole at the end of the room is cracked open, letting a crisp night breeze into the room. Jim has seen a few other rooms like this, spread across and down the hall.

Connor shrugs as he walks inside. 

“Like I said. Not much, but it’s better than sleeping outside.” He sits on the bed with rumpled sheets, pulling off his boots and jacket without a care in the world.

“Are you sure?” Jim asks as he’s setting down his bag on the bed. “I don’t mind taking another room.”

Connor smirks and the expression is, for the first time, unfamiliar. It’s filled with too sharp teeth and a dry amusement that’s poorly hidden behind a veneer of sympathy.

“You’ll mind when the cold rolls in tonight. We don’t heat the rooms unless they’re occupied, and none of us knew you were coming until a couple hours ago. For now at least, I think we’ll survive sleeping in the same room.” 

Jim admits that he has a point. And while he isn’t exactly planning on staying here all night, Connor doesn’t need to know that.  It’s not the worst thing that could happen. Being alone would make it easier to sneak out, but he can wait until Connor dozes off. Worst case, he’ll pretend to make a bathroom run.

The other boy strips into his underthings without any self consciousness, though Jim stays in his shirt and pants. They’re comfortable enough, and apparently he’s going to need the warmth, if he’s going to tromping throughout the ship’s halls tonight.

Waiting for Connor to drift off is maddening. Eventually Jim decides it’s been long enough that he’s suitably asleep and climbs out of his bed. He bunches the blankets into a bundle roughly in the shape of a sleeping form before sneaking out.  The Ranger is almost eerie after dark. At least he doesn’t have to dodge around a crewman on watch this time, Jim thinks, as the officer’s quarters are just down a corridor in the same complex of hallways.  He assumes Silver is in this smaller subsection of rooms. He would have assumed that he would be captain here, as he was before, but there doesn’t seem to be any resentment at his reduced status.

He’s just wondering how he’s supposed to identify Silver’s room without stumbling into someone else in the process when he rounds one of the corners and spots the door on the far end of the hall. The door is cracked open and light is spilling out into the dimness.  There’s humming coming from inside, and Jim smiles to himself as he approaches. All the other cabins are closed or dark inside, and as he gets closer the cadence becomes a tune he knows, one Silver seems to always fall back on. 

It’s still hard for Jim to believe his eyes, when he turns that final corner and sees Silver. He’s still in his jacket and outerwear, through he’s pulled off the hat and is working towards undressing entirely. He’s standing at a desk scattered with maps and papers, facing away from the door and Jim gives himself a moment to just look his fill. 

It’s like he’s been spirited back to that first night, the first time he followed Silver down to his cabin. The room is different, yes, and Jim himself has changed, but the nervous excitement in the air is one and the same. He takes in everything in the room, noting how much more personal this feels than the cabin he’d been used to. It’s warm and comfortable looking and so incredibly Silver that his smile aches with how wide it is.

“Hey.” He says softly, leaning against the doorframe. 

Silver sighs and turns and he’s already smiling, shaking his head as if in disapproval. He expected this, though. Jim can see it on his face. 

“Awful late to be up wandering.” He points out, a tinge of want in his eyes.

“Yeah, well.” Jim flirts right back. “I wasn’t planning on just wandering.”

He pulls the door closed behind him, driving the point further home. He wants to be alone with Silver. 

He doesn’t move as Jim crosses the room. He’s letting the boy make all the advances, which is as touching as it is frustrating. 

As soon as they’re within armslength of one another Jim is reaching slowly for his lapels, fisting them in his hands and stretching up on his toes to kiss Silver. The older man lets him approach without a word or even a noise, and he bends his head down towards Jim when they meet, to kiss him properly. Jim pushes him and he goes, until they’re meeting the wall and Jim keeps pushing until he’s got them chest to chest.

For once it’s Silver with his back to the wall and Jim on the offensive. He kisses hard, like he might never get the chance again, and slowly Silver’s hand comes to rest on Jim’s back. 

He swaps their positions easily, and now it’s Jim getting pinned to the wall and kissed like there’s no tomorrow, and he gasps between their mouths. The change of pace was nice and all, but Jim really missed feeling so small and helpless at the same time as he’s more loved and cared for than ever before. He groans and opens his mouth, whimpering as his tongue slides against Silver’s and they’re finally able to touch like they mean it. 

Jim’s growth was subtle enough from the outside, but now that they’re kissing he really notices it. Before he had to stand on his tiptoes to get close, and even then Silver needed to lean down in order to actually make their mouths touch. Now Jim can initiate it all by himself, and that freedom is thrilling.

A hand on his neck makes him groan, and the other working under the hem of his shirt makes him gasp and break away to tilt his head against the wall.  _ Fuck, _ he’s just got here and he’s already half hard. 

Silver takes the hand on Jim’s neck and braces it on the wall over the boy’s head. Jim is overwhelmed and caged in and he just holds onto Silver’s jacket like he never wants to let go. The flesh hand is still untucking his shirt, working over his side and around his back to hold him.

The embrace is tender, softer than the lust initially driving them, and Jim stalls himself for a minute to enjoy it. He leans in, burying his face in the older man’s shirt and catching his breath. The fabric is soft and worn, and the lapels of the coat brushing his cheek is exactly the way he remembers it. His arms wind around Silver’s back, under the thick outer layer of clothing to feel skin and metal just under his palms.  The distance between them has vanished like it’s nothing. Jim presses himself as close as he can get, sighing in contentment when Silver pushes him into the wall again, one hand still braced over the younger man’s shoulder. The other is rubbing at his back, moving down his spine like Silver is counting the vertebrae. 

Jim’s head drops back and he opens his mouth, making a tiny pleading noise quickly muffled by Silver’s mouth on his own. It’s slower this time, the kiss, though there’s still undeniably tongue involved. A rhythm develops, the two of them working together rather than Silver dominating the kiss and driving Jim wild. 

Jim breaks this one almost eagerly, his energy renewed. He slips out from under Silver’s frame and walks towards the bed. He chances a peek over his shoulder and sees eyes on him, both mechanical and organic following his every move.  Part of him is tempted to lay over the desk and demand to get fucked right there, but he wants to be comfortable tonight, and having hardwood digging into the tops of his thighs does not sound like a lot of fun at the moment. And besides, he wants to see Silver. Being bent over the desk isn’t conducive to that.

Jim sits on the bed and pulls off his boots. They thunk to the floor and he intentionally doesn’t look up until a shadow passes over him and Silver’s curled finger is tipping his head back.  The look on his face is lust and affection and tenderness, and Jim just sighs up at him. He’s helpless to the pull of it, this is everything he’s wanted for so long. 

Silver sits on the bed next to him and he’s barely settled down before the boy is climbing into his lap and he has his hands full of Jim, kissing him greedily. The older man kisses back just as hard and Jim tugs on his collar just to have something to do with his hands as his back is stroked up and down.  The shirt he’s wearing is thin, and the collar is low enough to show off a good part of his collarbones. It’s been so long since anyone touched him that he moans when Silver’s hand skates over the lines of his throat and neck. 

“Oh god.” He says, aware all at once that the moment Silver actually touches him he’s not going to last a minute. 

Silver snorts at him, leaning down to breathe in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

“Too much, lad?” He asks, though his tone is one of amusement rather than concern.

It almost sounds like a challenge, and Jim’s automatic response to up the ante rears it’s head.  He strips eagerly out of his shirt. Kissing is all well and good, but he’s been thinking about this moment for literal years. The second the garment is off Silver’s gaze roams down the younger man’s chest, and Jim can see the lust growing in his eyes.

He’s still slim, but he’s put on enough muscle and fat to look like a grown adult instead of the scrawny teenager he used to be. His ribs aren’t nearly as visible anymore, and he’s stupidly proud of the meager muscle mass he’s gained.

“Hells, you look good.” Silver rasps, smiling at Jim so charmingly it takes his breath away. 

And Jim knows he’s hot, but it’s still gratifying to have Silver so clearly enamored with his body. Attention from everyone else was one thing, but this is Silver. Maybe he would love Jim no matter what he looked like, but having the love of his life drooling over him is a whole other level of flattering. 

“So?” He prompts, milking the response for all it’s worth. “How did the academy do?” 

Silver shakes out of his half dazed stupor and laughs, dragging Jim further towards him with a finger hooked through a belt loop. 

“Someone’s proud of himself.” He purrs, and it’s Jim’s turn to grin.

“What, like you’re complaining?” 

A warm palm slides up his abdomen, feeling out the new muscles there. Jim doesn’t even have the brain power to flex and show off, he’s completely overtaken by the sensation of hands on him after so long. 

“Not at all, Jimbo.” He murmurs, still looking at Jim like he can’t believe his eyes. His hands are equally reverent, touching the bared skin gingerly and yet it still feels like a brand, a claim. 

Jim might be down to just his pants, but Silver is still mostly dressed, and he finally decides to do something about that.  His hands find the edges of the coat and he pushes it down, Silver gamely following his prompting. He shucks it off, leaving the heavy material to pool on the bed. He’s been wearing his coat all day. Seeing him now, in just a thin undershirt is enough to make Jim’s eyes go heavy lidded. The last time he saw Silver in less than full clothing was their last night together. He’s fantasized in the years since, but there’s nothing that compares with the real thing. 

He grabs for Silver and untucks the older man’s shirt. He’s going to get them both naked if it’s the last thing he does, damn it. Thankfully, that hint is enough to spur Silver into stripping to match the boy on his lap.

The map of scar tissue is almost exactly as Jim remembers it. There’s a few marks he doesn’t recall, the ones that look fresh or newly healed, but for the most part it’s a perfect match to what he’s been picturing in his minds eye all this time. 

He runs his hand over the skin, trying not to look too eager and utterly failing as he smiles. Silver puts both hands around Jim’s hips and drags him forward a few inches, just enough to let his hands drop and knead at the younger man’s ass.

“ _ Mmn _ , shit.” Jim grunts. He shuffles forward that last little bit, letting his knees part around the older man’s middle and giving sweet relief to his aching erection. He grinds forward, pressing the bulge in his pants between their bodies and making it clear exactly what he’s craving. Silver is still kneading at him, making Jim hot in the face as he rolls his hips. 

His belt comes undone like even  _ its _ been waiting for this, and then Jim is sitting up to let Silver strip him out of his boots and pants until he’s stark naked on the older man’s lap. His erection is straining between them and in any other circumstances Jim might be embarrassed at how eager his body is, but he can feel that Silver is in a similar state. 

He reaches for Silver’s belt next, letting it drop to the floor as he slips his hand into the older man’s pants.  A groan and then Jim smirks when Silver swallows and breathes hard against his neck. 

“Hells, lad.” He rumbles, and Jim shivers.  _ Fuck,  _ he’s missed that noise. The way Silver sounds when he’s out of breath, like he’s fighting down the urge to snarl and bite and fuck Jim hard into the bed. 

Silver’s left hand wraps around his back but Jim doesn’t even notice, because the pads of his right are teasing the head of his cock and there’s sparks behind his eyes and he’s straining not to come like a teenager at the first touch.  He has to bite his lip to keep from shouting as Silver presses a dry finger against his ass. He doesn’t push in, but the gentle touch alone is enough to make Jim buck and writhe against him with a high whimper. 

“Shh, wouldn’t want someone to hear now, would we?” He purrs, and even if Jim hadn’t seen the dark rooms surrounding them he’d know by the too-pleased tone that Silver was teasing. 

“S-shut up.” He gasps. Because Silver might like giving orders, but Jim gets just as much from disobeying them. “You know as well as I do those other rooms are empty,  _ shit. _ ”

Silver’s finger presses against his slit in the middle of the sentence, and Jim curses when precome leaks out over his cock. 

“Best be quiet, then, else the crew might come down to see what all the noise is about.” 

He redoubles his efforts, stroking Jim’s dick with the soft pads of his fingers and rubbing his ass. He sucks on the younger man’s neck for good measure, and that premonition Jim had that he wasn’t going to last long comes true. He curses as he comes, biting off a shout into Silver’s shoulder despite his words. He doesn’t  _ actually  _ want anyone to come investigate, nevermind his spitting and hissing. 

Silver makes a noise as Jim bucks against him, and as soon as the boy has control of himself again he’s shoving the heel of his hand between their legs to press where his cock had been hard moments earlier. 

He’s reassured that at least he wasn’t the only one starved for touch, since Silver comes not long after. He just manages to get his cock out of his pants before he growls and ruts up against Jim’s thigh. The contact on his oversensitive dick makes him whimper but he’s barely made the noise before there’s another load of come spilled across his belly and thighs.

They’re both panting, and it’s only now that Jim realizes he didn’t even get them both fully naked. 

“Damnit.” He gasps, slumping against Silver. The come is sticky on his skin and he’s sure he’s going to get reprimanded for getting it everywhere, but he doesn’t care. 

Laying as he is Silver’s breaths move him ever so slightly, and he lets himself match the rhythm and cadence of them.  The hand that had been pressing at his ass slides down his leg. His knees are folded and resting on the bed on either side of the older man’s thighs, and Silver traces all the way down to his ankle before climbing up again and stopping at the midpoint of his calf.

Jim looks down to follow the movement, and a wide smile crosses his face when he realizes what Silver is doing. 

His fingers are gentle where they trace the line nearly circling Jim’s lower leg. The scars are faded, they healed well and are barely even visible anymore, nevermind someone feeling them. And yet somehow Silver noticed, like he’s always noticed the tiny things that Jim forgets are there. The way his jaw still pops sometimes even all these years later. The slight tremor in his voice when he talks about his father. Or the barest trace of a scar left from a fight they were both lucky to walk away from. 

He can’t help it. Even draped over him Jim throws himself at the older man, wrapping his arms around his neck tightly as if to cling to him forever and sealing their mouths together greedily. He doesn’t even care that he’s crying, because the sentiment and the love is overwhelming him in all the best ways.

Silver moves them back onto the bed proper, letting Jim lay over him and kiss him hungrily, again and again until they’re both gasping for breath. Even then Jim doesn’t stop, he just lets the kisses meld together with his breathing until they’re sharing a lungful of oxygen, swapping it between them lazily.

They finally part, for good this time, and Jim’s smile turns into a hiccough of happy tears as he holds on tighter. 

“Mine.” He whispers between their mouths.

Silver purrs at him, runs a hand through his hair and kisses the breath out of him again, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of Jim.

“All yours.” He murmurs back.

He’s perfectly content to lay there like that all night, but after a few minutes Silver pushes him off and grabs a cloth to clean up the come drying on his belly. Jim lets him, feeling treasured and cared for and so stupidly happy he could die right now and he’d be content. After he’s clean and no longer going to get come all over the sheets, Silver lays back down with Jim, drawing the younger man to him and nosing his forehead with a pleased sigh.

Jim is finally relaxed. The chill that’s been shadowing him for so long he had ceased to notice it is finally soothed. Silver is warm and solid and present in front of him and everything is right with the world again. 

He shuffles closer, shy in the clarity of release, but Silver just puts a hand around his back and urges them together and it’s all the prompting Jim needs. He rests his chin on the older man’s shoulder, the warmth of him all down his front as he wraps his arms around Silver’s neck. 

The thought of the last few years makes melancholy sink in his stomach, and Jim sobers a little.

“M’sorry I took so long.” He murmurs, snuggling up to Silver under the blankets. 

A hand cups his cheek and the side of his head, but Jim doesn’t look up. 

“I would’ve waited as long as ye needed.” Silver says, and Jim closes his eyes against the fresh wave of tears. It’s hard to feel anything less than loved when the older man so clearly adores him, but his inadequacy complex is fucking determined tonight.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. Silver senses his discontent and pulls his gaze up by a finger under his chin. 

“You’ve already given more than I deserve. I don’t want you feelin’ guilty for needing time, understood?” 

Jim looks at him and sees how much he means it in the furrow of his brow. 

He nods. 

Silver strokes his hair out of his face and pulls him close again, cradling him softly but curled around him with what is unmistakably possessiveness. Jim feels owned, claimed, but he’s claimed Silver right back, so he’s okay with it. 

“We never talked about after.” He mumbles, something he realized when he thought Silver had taken up with the woman he now knows is his sister. 

Silver sighs. 

“Didn’t think there would be an after, for a while.” He admits. “I never meant to get this close to ye. By time we were...” He cuts himself off, uncharacteristically hesitant. 

“After ye trusted me I couldn’t imagine you’d want to stay, knowing the truth of it.” 

Jim’s breathing is harder, now. They need to talk about it, otherwise the problems will fester and poison the relationship before it can even really begin, but it’s still going to sting to relive that betrayal. Even after he forgave Silver it took a long time for him to admit how badly he’d been hurt.

“I was pissed at you, for a while.” He forces himself to say. It would be so easy to let Silver take the blame, but Jim’s denial had a part in this too. “But you never wanted to hurt me, I can see that now.” 

“Doesn’t excuse what I did.” And now it’s Silver’s turn to sound bitter. 

“No, but I’m forgiving you anyway.” Jim snaps before he forces his voice to slow and calm down. Getting angry isn’t going to fix things.

He takes a breath before speaking again.

“You saved me, Silver. In more ways than one.” He clears his throat. “I don’t care what else you did.” He pauses. “Just...” Jim bites his tongue at the last minute and cuts himself off before daring to ask for more. 

A brush of a hand against his brow and Jim looks up at a tender caress of his cheek. Silver is giving him an expectant look, waiting for the boy to finish. Jim gnaws his cheek. 

“No more lies, please.” He begs in a whisper. Silver looks like his heart breaks a little and Jim hides his face against the older man’s shoulder. 

A hand cards through his hair, gently. 

“No more lies. No half-truths, neither.” Silver adds, and Jim is thankful for that. He breathes out and relaxes, letting himself move on to less turbulent waters.

“So, what do you do here, anyway? Or are you just here because your sister is in charge?” 

Silver accepts the change in topic even as his hand keeps petting Jim’s head. 

“Quartermaster. Bit obsolete, really, Annie’s mate keeps the ships in check well ‘nough.” 

“Rackham, right?” Jim asks.

“Jack, aye.” Silver’s tone has a hint of unease in it, but clearly he’s not keen to share and Jim lets it be. If it was something important Silver would tell him. 

He flushes at the memory of his own indignation.

“When I first got here, I thought you and the captain… well.” He looks away. It’s embarrassing to admit how quickly he’d jumped to conclusions, but if he’s going to ask for honesty then he better hold himself to the same standard. 

Silver processes for a moment before he makes a noise of disgust. Jim grins wryly.

“Obviously I didn’t know she was your sister.” He says. 

“Wouldn’t do that to ye even if she weren’t.” Silver says. 

Jim shrugs, forcing nonchalance. Even if he wasn’t with the captain, Silver never promised loyalty, and technically neither did Jim. Just because he couldn’t think about anyone else in the intervening years, doesn’t mean the reverse is true.

“I never swore you to monogamy. I couldn’t be annoyed if you did.” The slight sadness in his voice says otherwise, but he pretends not to care anyway. 

Silver barks a surprised laugh and tilts Jim’s head back, and Jim isn’t sure what he expects to see when he looks. There’s amusement, yes, but it’s undercut by a dismay and chiding, like Silver can’t believe Jim thinks so little of either of them. 

“Lad, I ‘aven’t been able to get you off me mind since you showed up that first night.” 

Jim’s bitten lip breaks into a smile. He flushes and looks away, sheepish. Of course Silver was loyal to him, like he had any reason to think otherwise.

“Me neither.” He murmurs, leaning hard into Silver’s palm. 

Silver nuzzles his cheek and Jim grins. He’s exhausted, it’s been a long fucking day, a long several days, but he’s safe and happy. 

“We’ve… we’ve got issues. And we need to deal with them if this is going to work.” He hedges, winding his arms back around Silver’s neck. It’s an admission that feels sacrilegious, like he’s confessing to committing a crime, but he refuses to play ignorant like he did on the Legacy. All that got him was heartbreak and anger, and he’s already had enough of that for a lifetime. 

“I want this to work.” He whispers, face pressed to Silver’s chest. Fear creeps into his voice then, the dread that they could still fall apart even after all this time and effort.

Silver scents him, stopping the boy’s racing mind in its tracks.

“‘M right here with ye, Jimbo.” 

And Jim smiles. They’re together, they’re going to work this out. Maybe it’ll take a while, but he’s willing to try like never before.  Sleep comes easily then, finally wrapped in the arms of the one person he cares about more than anything in the galaxy.


	3. Aiding and Abetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: smut, conversations about underage

Aiding and Abetting:  _ Assisting, supporting, or helping another to commit a crime. _

* * *

The bed is already cold beside him, when Jim finally starts to wake.

He stretches, rolling over without much thought until he’s caught on something heavy and soft draped on top of him. He picks himself up and blinks, his hair mussed and falling in his face as he yawns. It’s early, judging by the soft silence of the ship around him.  The room isn’t familiar, and he’s totally at a loss until he remembers sneaking out to see Silver and staying the night. A wide grins breaks on his face and he bunches the blankets around him, once again meeting that weight not quite pinning him down.

It’s Silver’s jacket, he finds upon further inspection. It’s been laid overtop of the blankets Jim has huddled himself under, covering his frame in an extra layer of Silver scented warmth. He’s smiling painfully wide, and there are tears threatening to form in his eyes. The sheer fucking sentiment of the thing is heart wrenching, and Jim has never been so sure he’s made the right decision in his life.

He bundles it up into his arms and hugs the material close to his chest as he flops onto his side on the bed. It’s not as good as waking up next to Silver, but it’s leagues better than he had just yesterday and he’s not about to complain.  Jim buries his nose in it and breathes in. He might have thought that last night was all a dream if not for this. He curls into a loose ball, all but drowning himself in the familiar scent he’s been deprived of for so long. 

Jim dozes for some time, content with his lot in life for the first time in years. Nobody is walking in trying to rouse him, and he’s not about to get up before he’s ready if he can help it.

The door creaks loudly when it opens, and Jim cracks a single eye but otherwise doesn’t react. The cadence of the steps is uneven and hard to mistake for anyone else. He’s facing away from the door like this, still hugging the coat against his front.

Jim fights to hide his smile as Silver approaches him. He closes his eyes and tries valiantly to feign being dead to the world. The feeling of fingers brushing back his hair settles a liquid warmth in his chest, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He shifts as though in his sleep, hoping Silver hasn’t caught on to his ploy yet.  He can feel when the older man settles his weight more squarely over Jim, and the wicked smirk that’s been fighting to take form splits his face as he pounces. His arms wrap around the back of Silver’s neck and he lunges upwards, mashing their mouths together in a kiss that’s clumsy, but more than enthusiastic. 

Jim feels the rumble of a purr where their chests are pressed together, and a hand snaking under his back to support his spine makes him groan into the kiss. He’s up to his neck he’s so deep in it, but he doesn’t care. This is everything he’s ever wanted. 

A breathy moan slips out when Silver nuzzles his jaw and kisses a path down his neck. His throat and collarbones are marked up and sore from last night but he’s already prepared to beg for more love bites. 

“Sneaky devil.” Silver murmurs against his skin, purring and thumbing the bruises idly. 

“I’m not the one who snuck out this morning.” Jim shoots back, tilting his head invitingly. 

Silver hums and sucks on the offered throat, nipping playfully at the adam’s apple and skimming his free left hand over Jim’s bare chest.

“Fair few more responsibilities here.” He says, though there’s still an apology in his voice. 

“I guess you came to get me and put me to work, huh?” Jim rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, smiling through the sigh in his words. He’s complaining, but he’d do just about anything if it means he gets to keep spending his nights here.

Silver laughs low in his throat and Jim shudders. It’s such a dark sound, and his dick twitches at the promising nudge between his thighs. 

“Suppose I could, but I’ll bet there’s better use for yer talents than scrubbing the deck.” Silver murmurs. 

Jim swallows. He hadn’t dared think his morning would be this good, especially after how lucky he got last night. His cock is definitely taking an interest though, and the inextinguishable lust running through his veins won’t let him refuse. He bites his lip in a coy smile. 

“My talents?”

Silver rumbles a growl and a thrill runs up Jim’s spine. He’s still looming over the boy, fully clothed and pinning the naked younger man down easily. 

“Always were good with yer hands, ‘f I recall.” He pulls his cybernetic hand out from supporting Jim’s back to touch the boy’s lips, parting his jaws and revealing the pink inside of his mouth. Jim lets him, totally enamored with being manipulated like this. 

“Good with yer mouth, too.” Silver adds, when Jim lets his tongue hang out. If the touching last night was enough to make him come in two minutes, the dirty talk might get him there without being touched at all. 

He whines and cants his hips. Silver flicks his eyes down but doesn’t comment. He can feel the younger man’s erection, the smug look on his face says as much, but he’s not giving Jim any extra slack. 

Jim shivers as Silver leans down overtop of him, pinning him thoroughly and resting a possessive hand on the bed, just over his shoulder. The rounded edge of his thumb pad traces the tendons of Jim’s throat, making the younger man’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His hand isn’t pressing down on the delicate flesh of Jim’s neck, but the implied threat in his light caresses is enough to make the boy tremble all over.

“Mine.” Silver breathes, a smile in his voice and a rumbling purr building in his throat as he kisses over Jim’s chest reverently.

“Yours.” Jim echoes in a gasp. He’s dizzy with arousal and painfully hard. Even after last night his body is ready to go at the slightest prompting. 

Silver pulls the blankets down and Jim gasps at the cold. His cock is standing proud between his legs, one knee raised as he writhes for friction.  The hand still tracing over the bruises on Jim’s throat slides down his body, slow and purposeful until it reaches his knee. He wants to complain, as his cock is left wholly ignored in the path, but when he opens his mouth on a frown all he gets is a soft shushing and a far too pleased smirk.

Silver drags his lower half up without warning, and Jim gasps. He’d kind of expected Silver to not be as strong after all this time, but clearly he was mistaken. His own increased muscle and weight is nothing to the larger man and he’s easily yanked up until just his shoulders and arms are supporting him on the bed. 

He flushes as Silver licks his inner thigh meaningfully. He knows where this is going now. He braces his feet on the older man’s shoulders and Silver purrs at him. His ass is resting against Silver’s chest, and the hand not leaving circular marks above his knee wanders down to support his lower back.

Jim thinks idly about his bunkmates who had always called him a prude for not indulging in their sexual escapades. He wonders what they’d say if they could see this, and the thought makes him as embarrassed as it does vindictively amused. 

The angle is awkward and could very quickly become uncomfortable, but Jim feels splayed open and vulnerable and is about to get his dick sucked besides, so he doubts it’s going to last very long.  The first lick isn’t to his cock, in fact, but to the space farther back. Jim makes an embarrassing squeaking noise as a warm tongue laps between his cheeks and at his perineum. His throat closes and the sharp little sounds keep escaping as Silver continues to ignore Jim’s aching erection in favor of something that is, surprisingly, equally pleasurable.

He almost protests as Silver finally moves away, but manages to stop himself in time. As much as he loves being the object of Silver’s attention, in any form that takes, he’s already trembling and his dick is leaking precome onto his belly and chest. He doesn’t want to encourage Silver to drag this out, not when he’s so hard it hurts.

Silver takes Jim into his mouth without any of his characteristic teasing. He purrs and Jim yelps before he claps a hand to his mouth to stifle himself. Yelling last night was bad enough, but the whole ship is awake now. If he starts yowling like an animal in heat someone is bound to come knocking.  He tries a shallow thrust and Silver lets him, moving his organic hand up and rubbing his thumb where his mouth had been just moments earlier. It makes the younger man squirm, the thundering desire for release nearly overwhelming. He wants to come so badly, but Jim knows he’s completely at Silver’s mercy like this, and no amount of writhing is going to get him off before Silver decides he’s ready. 

Jim banks a frustrated sound and forces himself to relax. This is just as much for his enjoyment as Silver’s. Which, by the feeling of something hard digging into his spine, is still quite a lot.  His tongue is fucking expert, and someday Jim is going to ask where the fuck he learned to do that, but right now he’s too busy racing towards orgasm. 

“Silver-  _ I’m- _ ” He manages, his hips bucking. The finger still pressed to his ass massages him a little harder then and he comes into the older man’s mouth with a soundless cry. 

Jim moans, when he finally gets his voice back. He’s fucking exhausted all of the sudden, good night of sleep be damned, and the feeling of Silver laving his cock clean is too much like pleasure to be comfortable.  He barely mewls out a complaint before Silver is stopping and laying him down, where Jim goes boneless on the bed for a moment. 

“Fuck.” He says succinctly a Silver smiles down at him. He’s not done yet, that much is painfully clear.  And he knows the  _ second _ he says he’s too tired Silver will stop, but he likes being used outside of his own pleasure too much to voice his idle complaints.

“That’s the idea.” Silver grins wickedly, and if Jim’s brain wasn’t melted to goo from coming he’d be rolling his eyes. 

“It’s been a while, I don’t know if you’ll fit in me.” He warns, exhaustion already seeping into his voice.

Silver slips the flesh hand between Jim’s thighs, dragging his claws over the muscles where they’re loose from release before grabbing a handful and squeezing.

“Mayhaps not, but there’s other places I can use, if yer up for it.” The smirk stays charming and seductive, but that subtle question is enough to make Jim smile. 

The post orgasmic drowsiness is kicking in hard, but the sleepy warmth blooming in his chest mutates rapidly into pure affection for the man whose first thought is always of him. Silver wants Jim, just as much as Jim wants Silver, but there isn’t any question in the younger man’s mind as to his safety.

Jim rolls onto his side and crosses his ankles, squeezing his thighs together with a look over his shoulder. He’s recovered from orgasm now, at least enough to have his wits about him. 

“Go ahead and have your wicked way with me, then.” 

Silver shakes his head, that same look he’d given so many times on The Legacy when Jim got too bold for his own good. 

The older man lays behind him, kissing Jim’s neck and rubbing his side as he slips his quickly slicked up palm between the boy’s legs. His cock follows not long after, moving in and out in a smooth, steady motion that makes Jim groan, his own dick twitching even after his orgasm. 

“Yer too damn good for me.” Silver gasps, fucking Jim hard enough that the head of his cock is teasing against the younger man’s own. 

“I-I think we’re pretty well matched- _ ahh... _ ” Jim moans. He’s getting hard again,  _ fuck _ . “Higher.”

Silver obliges, changing the angle to make Jim whimper. He’s still sensitive enough that even the slightest touch sends sparks of overstimulation throughout his body, but the noises that Silver is making, the pants and growls as he fucks Jim hard makes him want to come again just to be close to him some more. 

He turns his head to face Silver, one hand wandering down his stomach to tease himself. A brutal kiss makes him cry out and shake, small and overwhelmed from so many points of stimulation. Silver’s hands go from roaming up and down his side to holding him still. The flesh one tangles into his hair, dragging his head back and baring his neck to the room. The pads of the metal fingers dig hard into Jim’s hips and force him into a fast motion that meets the thrusts against his thighs.

It’s just the barest step down from actually getting fucked, and Jim lets out a guttural moan as Silver breaks the kiss and slams in, spilling come all over Jim’s thighs and over his ass as he pulls back out.  Jim gasps. It’s warm and sticky and if he hadn’t just come a few minutes ago he’d be harder than ever. As it is he’s still at half mast, but he’s too tired to come again before he’s even eaten. 

Silver rests his forehead against the back of Jim’s neck as his breathing relaxes. His right hand traces over the younger man’s side, a single fingertip running up and down the length of his dick. 

“Want it again?” He murmurs through a kiss as Jim’s heaving breaths hitch. 

Jim grunts, and part of him is tempted to say yes just for the sake of showing off, but he’s sore and tired enough already. If he comes again he’s going to be completely useless for the rest of the day. 

“Please don’t, I’m gonna be lightheaded in an hour anyways.” He pleads. The hand that had been lingering near his groin moves away then, and Jim relaxes even more as the kisses turn affectionate over any other motives. 

“How ‘bout this, then?” Silver wraps his arms around Jim’s chest, holding him tight and snug against the older man. 

“That’s good, I guess.” Jim grins. He rolls over, laying his cheek on the older man’s chest and sighing. “But this is better.” 

Silver says nothing, but he rests his nose to the crown of Jim’s head and breathes in the scent on his hair. 

The morning sunlight streaming in warms Jim’s skin where it touches. He’s struck by just how fucking picturesque the moment is, how lucky he is to have this again. Those first few months after he got home Jim was sure he’d never see Silver again, and berated himself for not just saying fuck the consequences and hopping in the skiff with him. 

He’d moved past it, of course, but some of that uncertainty had always lingered in the back of his mind. The fear that Silver would get over him, or that he already had. 

This kind of grinds that fear to dust. Being held like this is something he’s been missing so badly the past few years. Nobody else sated that desire. Not the other students who touched his shoulder or flirted, not his mom when she hugged him and said how proud she was, not even the few friends Jim has made at the academy. 

Jim is still naked, and now he has a layer of come cooling between his thighs and over his ass. Eventually the feeling is too much to be comfortable and for once it’s him that disengages, retrieving the rag from the night before to wipe himself off.  Silver stands as well, and Jim knows he should probably put at least the bare minimum effort into looking like he was in his bunk last night.  He gets dressed, aware that Morph has been conspicuously absent since they arrived. He fully expects to get a face full of gleeful shapeshifter the second he steps out on deck, he just hopes the little creature hasn’t gotten into too much mischief while his caretakers were preoccupied. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll meet you up there?” He asks, half bent over to pull his second boot on. 

There’s no immediate reply, and Jim turns around to find Silver sitting on the bed, eyes fixed on the younger man’s ass. The look on his face is completely unabashed as he looks up and meets Jim’s eyes.

Jim tries to ignore the affectionate warmth in his chest and on his cheeks, breaking eye contact and fighting a shy smile.

“You’re staring.” He mutters, risking a half lidded glance back at the bed as he finishes getting dressed.

He hears Silver standing up, but doesn’t react until one broad palm cups the swell of his ass. Jim grunts, startled, and turns to halfheartedly complain some more, but Silver is already a step ahead. Jim turns his head right into the older man’s other hand, the fingers splaying over the side of his head while the thumb finds his chin, and then he’s guided into a kiss. 

As soon as their lips are touching Jim melts back into Silver’s arms. The kiss steals his breath and makes him feel faint in the best way, like he’s made of nothing but the dust in the etherium. 

Silver laughs when Jim gasps for air, breaking the kiss.

“Go on up, an’ try to stay outta trouble, aye?” 

Jim huffs, and is tempted to give a sharp reply, but the affection of the hand still cupping his cheek wins over. And anyway, he’s still a little loose in the head from the kiss. 

“No promises.” He whispers, managing to steal one last chaste kiss without getting caught up in a tangle of tongues and limbs, and then he’s slipping out the door.

The hallway just outside is quiet, though he’d expected that much here. From the look of things Silver’s is the only regularly occupied room on this side of the hall. The soft sounds of people moving around on deck can be heard as he nears the intersection of the hallways, but none of them move towards him and he makes it to Connor’s bunk undetected.  Jim opens the door as slowly and quietly as possible, grimacing when it creaks partway. He hopes Connor is a heavy sleeper. The hallway remains clear, and he tiptoes inside quickly. 

The door closing behind him is more of an afterthought as Jim freezes, shocked to see the other boy not in bed, but apparently frozen in the middle of climbing in the window.  They both stare at each other for a moment, startled. Jim glances at the other bed to see what is clearly a mass of pillows and bundled blankets standing in for Connor. His own is in a similar state, and if he wasn’t so strung up on adrenaline he’d be laughing. 

Connor speaks first. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t?” He says hopefully. 

Jim wonders what it is that he needs so badly to keep a secret, then spots a series of dark purple marks on the other boy’s neck and thinks he can probably guess.

“Done.” He agrees, crossing the room to help pull Connor inside. 

He’s kind of amazed Connor’s lanky frame fits through the small porthole. Getting him inside is easy though, and Jim wonders how often he’s done that to be so good at it. 

They both unmake their beds, with the silent understanding that comes from sharing a secret. By the time Connor is changing into fresh clothes Jim is already leaving, his heavy jacket wrapped around him to guard against the sharp winds on deck. 

For all he’d expected commotion, the ship is relatively quiet. A couple of muscular looking men are replacing a sail, and he spots several crewmembers ferrying barrels of supplies down the gangplank and onto another ship.  One of the men in the shrouds even waves at him, a short jovial smile before he’s rejoining his companion in their work.  It’s pleasant, but indescribably weird. Every other ship he’s been on has been very much opposed to the presence of outsiders, but these pirates are totally fine with Jim being there, for some reason. 

He wanders down to the galley, intent on getting something to eat before he passes out. 

The sounds of two people talking softly reaches him first, and then he steps fully into the galley and sees the captain and her mate, back to back in the kitchen proper and chatting.  The captain looks up when she spots him, her long ears pricking forwards and a easy grin overtaking her features. 

“Well, look who’s awake. Slept well, I take it?” 

Jim is privately amazed he didn’t think Silver and her were related before, they’re almost identical in their mannerisms and speech. 

He hopes she can’t see the slight flush on his face as he answers. 

“Yeah, I slept pretty good.” He rubs the back of his neck. The galley is different to what he’s used to. It’s a large space, but most of the kitchen is behind a counter that divides the room. A set of windows let in light from either side of the space and he can look out and see the other ships beginning to bustle awake. 

“Breakfast is every man for himself, other meals have a schedule set.” Jack says, moving to lean against the far wall, facing Jim in the process. Sidling up to the counter Jim can see he’s nursing a cup of something steaming. 

“Good to know.” Jim says. It’s still weird, he expects to get reprimanded any second for wasting time, like he's back in the Academy, but this place honestly reminds him more of the Benbow than anything. 

Anne finishes whatever she’d been doing, sliding a plate stacked with sausage and toast towards her mate and crossing the room towards him. She looks smaller, like this. Without the thick overcoat Jim notices that she’s only slightly taller than him, though she’s still leagues more muscular. 

“Got a big fuck off shipment of fruit this week.” She says to Jim, jerking her head towards a crate of red and yellow splotched things with a thick looking skin as she returns to stocking the shelves with supplies. “Help yerself.” 

Jim does, figuring out the mechanics of the fruit easily and peeling away the skin to get to the soft and juicy interior.  Rackham is still eyeing him sharply, and Jim does as he does best and pretends not to notice. He’s still watching out of the corner of his eye, which is how he catches Anne when she leans over and grabs a handful of the man’s ass, bold as anything. 

Rackham yelps, jerking away from her hand with a startled cry. His face blushes a pink so dark it’s almost purple and Anne cackles deep in her chest. It’s not a far cry from Silver’s laugh, but there’s difference enough that Jim takes note of it. 

“Really?” Rackham says. He looks ruffled, embarrassed, and he cuts his eyes to Jim briefly before turning back to the woman who’s still giggling at his expense. 

“What, like I was going to leave that cute little arse alone? M’not a saint love, and there’s no better way I’ve found yet to get yer attention.” 

Rackham straightens, the blush still firmly on his face. He runs a hand through his hair to slick it back.  Anne plucks a couple rashers of bacon from the plate behind her first officer, biting into them all at once. Her canines are long and threaten to overlap her lips, which she licks when the food is gone after just a few large bites. 

The motion is borderline indecent, and Rackham looks away, his flush renewed. Jim takes the opportunity to put some distance, seating himself at one of the tables to pick at his meal. 

“I don’t think this is the time, given the currently mixed company.” He mutters, low enough that Jim almost doesn’t hear it. 

A scoff, almost a huff of laughter and then, lowly. 

“I think the boy knows what happens behind closed doors, love. He’s not a child.” She points out. 

A muffled squawk, and Jim guesses that Anne pinched her mates ass again, if her laughter is anything to go by. 

Rackham doesn’t storm out, he’s not angry enough for that to be accurate, but there’s definite embarrassment under the veneer of dignity as he moves quickly out of the galley. Anne’s laughter follows him, and she calls after him. 

“Love ye too, Jackie darling!” 

A grunt of acknowledgement and then Rackham is gone, leaving just Jim and the captain in the galley. 

A soft hum starts up, the tune familiar even if the voice is too high and light to match. Jim abandons the remains of his fruit, his hunger momentarily sated but his curiosity less so as he nears the kitchen proper. 

The room is smaller than it seemed from the outside. The counters lining the perimeter are overhung with shelves and cabinets, and underneath is similarly designed for storage. As Jim enters he spots Anne pouring something from a flask into a steaming mug, before swirling the liquid and taking a drink. She sighs and smiles at him, friendly but with an air of mischief around her. 

“Slept well, did ye say?” She asks, sounding too innocent to be real. 

“Yeah.” Jim forces his voice steady as he answers. He doesn’t think she’s going to scold him, she seems too much like she enjoys teasing him for that, but he’s not about to give up the ghost unless he’s forced to.

His neck tingles with the sensation of eyes on him, and he fights the urge to hunch his shoulders to hide the love bites all over his skin. 

“Indeed.” She says, dry, and then the yellow brown of her eyes zip away from him to something over his shoulder. 

“An’ where the fuck have you been, ey?” She calls, a smile on her lips. Jim hears the uneven cadence of Silver’s footsteps and he relaxes a fraction. If the look the captain gives him is anything to go by, it’s not unnoticed. 

“I did the rounds with ye this morning, ye know very well where I’ve been.” 

He enters the room and Jim flashes him a small smile when Anne isn’t looking. He expects Silver to keep his distance, to pretend there’s space or awkwardness between them, so he’s surprised when the older man steps right up next to him.  His breath catches a little, and he darts his eyes to the woman who’s placing something on a high shelf, facing away from them.  The older man quirks a secretive smile at him, and Jim flushes before he rubs his face to get it under control. Now is not the time, no matter how badly he might want to get pinned to the counter. 

And then Silver is taking something from a cabinet above Jim’s head and moving away.

Anne and Silver move around one another easily in the space. It’s not perfect, whatever harmony they clearly once had is long out of practice, but it’s still intriguing to watch. They talk as they work, Anne shooting quips at Silver and her brother sniping right back.  The activity slows eventually, and Jim is pleasantly surprised to find a cup of something warm and sweet smelling pressed into his palms. Silver steps up next to him again, leaning against the counter to Jim’s right.

Jim really isn’t expecting any kind of public affection between them, so the feeling of a hand between his shoulder blades makes him sit a little straighter and flush hot in the face. He swallows, because this isn’t going to look weird unless he makes it look weird, but it’s hard to suppress the gut reaction of fear when he’s got a woman he doesn’t know staring him down. 

Silver’s thumb circles one of the knots of his spine, and Jim forces himself to relax. He’s safe here, Silver wouldn’t have brought him otherwise. And anyway, the captain doesn’t appear to notice. Or if she does, she doesn’t mention their contact.  Her eyes are still unnerving as they zero in on him, sharp and clever in a way that he’s familiar with, but that seems more dangerous and cunning from her. Maybe she’s just not faking friendliness like Silver had, that first interaction, and that’s what's putting him off now. It’s impossible to tell.

She glances at her brother with a look, and Jim forces himself not to follow her eyes. He still sees something like warning cross the older man’s face in his peripheral vision, but if anything Anne’s smile just widens. 

“Navy, aye?” She says, dryly. Jim recalls that most of the naval men in the area haven’t been bold enough to venture into the pirate controlled territory, and wonders suddenly if he’s walked into a minefield disguised as a haven.

“Academy, actually.” It seems like that’s less likely to get him gutted. 

“Freshly trained, then?” She inquires, but there’s a hint of something ice cold in her eyes. She’s feeling him out, he realizes, giving him a once over to determine if he’s a threat. 

Silver huffs at her and the woman rolls her eyes, sighing. A little bit of the tension dissipates and Jim relaxes. 

“Don’t misunderstand me, love,” She addresses him. “I’m only askin’ thanks to dear old due process. Ye don’t get to be my age in this business trusting everyone what comes along.” 

The calm in her voice is reassuring, and even Silver settles back somewhat. 

“I get it.” Jim replies. “Trust me, I was only interested in the navy ‘cause I had an in. Without it I would have been working an apprenticeship or something.” 

She nods sagely. “That lady captain a yers, yeah?” 

Jim nods back, and he wonders how much Silver has told these people about the journey. 

“Yeah. She wanted me to get proper training, and that just happened to be in the law enforcement business. I think she was hoping I would go in for the bounty hunting area, but I- uh… wasn’t interested.” 

He glances at Silver a little as he says the last part, wholly unintentional and then he’s blushing slightly as he realizes what he’s implying. He’s fine with Silver knowing that part, but tipping his hand at the captain seems like a huge risk. 

Her faint, amused smile turns into a sly smirk.

“Good answer.” She chuckles. 

“Done with the interrogation,  _ Captain _ ?” Silver asks pointedly. He sounds annoyed, and Jim is a little surprised to find that’s new to him. He’s never seen Silver irritated before. Angry, yes. Stressed and scared, definitely. But this low level displeasure is very new.

“Aye, fine, he passed. Feel free to wander off.” Anne waves a hand at Jim dismissively, but she’s smiling. It’s familiar, that same mischievous smirk he came to know so well. “Just don’t let on where ye came from if ye can help it, yeah? Don’t want the rougher crews gettin’ any fool ideas.” 

“They wouldn’t hurt him.” Silver says it like it’s fact, and Jim isn’t sure if that speaks to the crew’s relative brutality or his own protectiveness. 

“No, but they might decide he’s worth taking hostage and making a profit off of, and I’m not inclined to stir up the pot more than you’ve done already.” 

“Meaning?”

“Risked an awful lot of trouble bringing this one back, is all I’m saying.” 

“Wouldn’t’ve done it ‘f I didn’t trust him, Annie.” Silver growls.

“I meant from the fuckin’ navy boys patrolling that dock day and night.” She waves a hand at him. “Clearly the pair a ye are close. You’re already scent sharing with him, for fuck’s sake.” She says, turning away from them both to continue with her unpacking of supplies.

Jim glances between the two siblings, totally lost. Silver doesn’t look much better, but he’s also glancing at Jim with something like surprise in his eyes. 

Anne turns back to find them gaping at one another. 

“You’re fuckin’ joking, ye didn’t know?” She directs the last part at Silver, who looks back at her with an expression Jim has never seen. It’s utter incomprehension, and a bit of pleased surprise.

“What’s scent sharing?” Jim asks, unnerved by the importance this unexplained ritual has.

Anne whips her gaze to him next, eyes wide. 

“And ye didn’t bother to fuckin’ tell him?” She shouts as she whirls back on Silver.

“Weren’t exactly on me mind, Annie.” He says, glaring at Anne when Jim starts to look panicked. She throws her hands up, huffing and crossing them over her chest. 

“Useless fucking -” She cuts off, turning to Jim.

“He smells like you and you smell like him. Usually something that happens by itself  _ after  _ everyone involved has a chance to get used to the idea.” She glares at Silver pointedly. 

“I didn’t think it would happen overnight.” He shoots back, mirroring her posture in a move that Jim thinks might be unconscious. 

She looks between them, a slight smirk tilting the corners of her mouth. 

“That’s simplifying it a bit, don’t ye think?”

“So, wait.” Jim cuts in as he sets down his now empty cup. “It can happen with anyone?” 

Both siblings turn back to him.

“Tends to require close contact.” Anne says. She points between herself and her brother, explaining. “We smell alike ‘cause we’re related, but that’s somethin’ neither one a’ us can change. You, on the other hand.” She points a clawed finger at Jim now. “Would have to be pretty fuckin' close to be scent sharing that strong in so short a time.” 

“How close, exactly?” Jim says in a reedy whisper, not sure what answer he wants to hear. 

Anne tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow. 

“Are ye still asking about scent sharing, or if I can tell the two of ye are fucking?” She says, matter of factly. 

Jim isn’t sure if he goes pale as a bone or redder than ever. Anne is still looking between them, totally unaffected by this rather monumental thing she’s just declared. 

“Ye’d need a damn good nose to pick it up, mind, scent sharing mainly exists among our species for a reason, being that we’re the only ones who can reliably tell.” She scratches her chin as she talks, ears canted back and eyes averted, like she’s giving him space. 

Jim just kind of sits in shock for a moment. He’d assumed she was aware, but thinking it and hearing it are two very different things. He swallows down the lump in his throat at her expression, which is, if anything, bored. She doesn’t look like she’s chomping at the bit to report them to a higher up. And, now that Jim thinks about it, who the fuck would she tell? As far as he’s aware she’s the highest authority here, and she doesn’t seem to care.

Silver lays a warm hand on the back of Jim’s neck and he returns to both the galley and his body, face still hot and probably very deep pink. Silver and Anne are still talking, and he tunes back into the conversation.

“You honestly fucking thought I wouldn’t notice?” 

“I fucking didn’t, did I?” 

“Ye’re a bit close to the situation, don’t ye think love?” 

Silver snorts. Anne apparently takes that as backtalk, and cuffs him on the shoulder. 

“Don’t sass me, boy. I’m still older than you.” 

“We’re both adults, Annie.”

“And I’m  _ still  _ older and captain besides,  _ brat _ .” Anne says. 

Jim opens his mouth to object, because he’s not even part of this conversation and she’s insulting him, and then he closes it because she’s not looking at him. She’s looking at Silver.

And then he gapes because  _ she’s talking to Silver. _

“Brat?” Jim asks, unable to hide the utter delight in his voice. 

Both siblings turn to him, Anne smirking that old familiar smirk and Silver looking mildly chagrinned. 

“Oh aye, he was a right bastard as a pup. Should’ve seen the trouble he got into.” She supplies all too eagerly, nudging her brother’s shoulder. 

“Aye, and you were much better behaved.” He snorts. 

“Had to be, I was raising us weren’t I?”

“I recall you gettin’ into plenty of your own trouble.” 

“At least I got out of it without needing my big sister to come in and save me.” Anne grins and bats her eyes faux innocently. 

Silver growls, and with anyone else Jim might think he was legitimately threatened. Seeing how he’s interacted with his sister thus far though, this seems par for the course.

“And look how much you’ve matured since.” He mutters, turning away.

“Oh, I don’t think you want to go down that path.” She singsongs. 

“And why not?” Silver asks, another growl in his voice. Anne just grins, wild and manic.

“Because I’m not the one fucking the jailbait, love.” She says, and Jim nearly falls off the counter.

She erupts into a fit of laughter as she notices Jim stumbling, and beats her retreat before her brother can enact revenge.  Jim rights himself and finds Silver shaking his head at the retreating figure of his sister. He turns to Jim, exasperated but undeniably fond. The younger man is still blushing, and he clears his throat with a poorly hidden smirk.

“Brat, huh?” Jim asks.

Silver sighs, voice pained but smiling all the same. Like it’s fond, if embarrassing, memory.

“Right pair of demons, Annie and I were.” He admits. 

“Hypocrite.” Jim teases, folding his arms and leaning against the counter. “How many times did you give me extra chores on the Legacy for getting into trouble?” 

“Less often than ye deserved, I reckon.” Silver answers, with a smirk in his voice.

“And now I’m finding out you were no better.” Jim tries his best to sound affronted. 

“Mayhaps that’s how I always knew what ye were thinking, behind those sulky looks of yers.” 

Jim’s face heats a little. 

“I didn’t sulk.” He says.

Silver crosses the room and tilts the boy’s head back. He gives Jim a look, running a finger along his bottom lip. He cocks an eyebrow. Jim rolls his eyes and looks to the side, face flushing with the proximity. 

“Maybe I sulked a little.” He admits. His face is still warm. How long before he stops blushing every time Silver is near him? 

A hand ruffles his hair and Jim turns to protest, right as the hand on the back of his head drops to his neck and drags him forward. Silver kisses the objection out of him, purring as Jim clutches him back with a moan. Twice in less than a day and he’s still ready to go just like that, how the hell has he lived four years without this man.

He’s dazed when the kiss breaks, and Silver abandons Jim against the counter again with a smug huff of laughter. Jim gasps for breath, trying to think. What were they talking about?

Something pink and squishy hurtles into his side, belated but excited to see him. Jim catches Morph as he’s circuiting the boy’s head, calming himself and the shapeshifter both.

“Hey!” A youthful voice calls out after, and Jim turns to see Connor at the door. He’s much more put together than when they met this morning, and Jim can’t even see the marks on his neck anymore. 

He’s tossing a fruit in between his hands, and he grins at Jim, but it’s different to what he’s seen of this boy before. It’s wide and unapologetically excited.

“You’re with me today. It’s been way too long since I had someone to show around and I’m bored to death.” He makes a dramatic face, and Jim can’t help like him a little. He’s odd, and nothing like what Jim had expected, but he’s enjoying the contrast. 

Jim isn’t even necessarily conscious of doing it, but he still sends a brief glance to Silver. It’s not looking for permission, they both know the word ‘no’ just makes him want to do something more badly. It’s just... the desire to look over and see him, an acknowledgement. 

He follows the other boy out of the room, witnessing a brief interaction between him and the older man on the way out. 

“Keep him out of trouble.” Silver says. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Connor replies cheerfully. 

“Weren’t talking to you.” 

He turns back with a mock affronted look. 

“Aww, don’t you trust me?” 

The harsh scoff tells Jim that, no, he does not trust Connor. 

The boy gets the last word in, in a matter of speaking, by sticking out his tongue mulishly and then retreating, passing another fruit to Jim on the way up the stairs.  And then he’s being towed along as a boy his age, who acts half as much, is pulling him down the gangplank and onto the maze of walkways suspended between the ships. 

It’s high up, and there’s not much in the way of safety measures besides a rope rail either side of the walkways, but Jim is used to heights. He spent several months trading off between planetside airships and the more substantial ones out in the Etherium, this is nothing in comparison. Morph is following them, bouncing between the two boys easily.

The ships are so tightly packed that it’s obvious when one is missing. Jim stops at a wide open space near the center of the crush. He stands to the side when a dozen men walk by moving huge boxes laden with food and repair supplies. 

Connor notices when he slows to investigate, and wanders back over. 

“Yeah, one of our suppliers never showed yesterday.” 

“How bad is that?” Jim asks. If a naval supplier had missed their arrival there would be search parties, demands for location and full on tracker teams, but none of the people here seem overly concerned. 

Connor shrugs, further reinforcing the notion that this is a non-event.

“Honestly, the captain’s kind of an arsehole. We didn’t give him anything important, we’ll survive.” A dark smirk splits Connor’s face. “But he’s in for a world of hurt soon as he shows back up.”

Another man carrying supplies crosses their path, and Jim doesn’t pay him any mind, but Connor’s head snaps around like he’s a puppy on a scent the moment the man speaks. 

“Staying busy as usual, I see.” 

“Hey, Jesse.” Connor murmurs. Jim doesn’t miss the way he flushes, or the tense look that passes between them before Jesse notices Jim standing there.

“Who’s your friend?” He asks. The man looks human, at least mostly, but he’s taller than either of the younger men and much rougher around the edges. He looks like the sort Jim wouldn’t want to be caught in a dark alley with, but he doesn’t think he has much ground to stand on as far as judgement of Connor's partner is concerned.

“Oh, Jesse, this is Jim. He’s a new recruit I’m showing around.” Connor introduces, pointing between them before going back to fawning not to subtly over Jesse. He’s draping himself all over the deckhand, getting right up into his personal space without a care in the world.

“What fun.” Jesse deadpans, unmoved by the pleading body language.

“Always room for one more.” Connor winks, nudging Jesse with his elbow and wiggling his brows. Jesse laughs. 

“I’ve got work to do, Con, otherwise your mom will have words for me. Try not to have too much fun.” He adds over his shoulder. 

And then he’s hefting the crate he was carrying and walking away, Connor staring after him with eyes too low to be watching the back of his head.

“Let me guess.” Jim mutters, just under his breath. 

Connor laughs and smirks back at him, unrepentant.

“Hey, you’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.” He stands and starts walking, and Jim falls into step behind him. 

“So, does your mom know that you’re…?” 

“Shagging the help?” He asks with a smirk. “Nah. She probably knows something’s up, but she doesn’t know who it is and I’m not gonna tell her. If mum didn’t try some over-protective bullshit da would, and neither of them are a lot of fun in that regard. ”

They lapse into silence. It isn’t until they’re nearing the edge of the walkways that either one of them makes a sound. 

“So, what's your deal? With Silver, I mean. He told the whole-” Connor waves hand in the air, something like disbelief in his tone. “Treasure planet story, but I wanna hear it from your end.” 

It’s weirdly like making friends at the academy, Jim thinks. His instinct is to downplay his relationship with Silver, or to make it more antagonistic, but that doesn’t really make sense here, honestly. Connor has already shown his cards, and Jim wants to respond in kind.

His hand comes up to the back of his neck, rubbing at his spine and shoulders. He leans heavily on the rail supporting the ropes. Morph notices that they’ve stopped again and settles on Jim’s shoulder with a tiny, bored sigh.

“Not much to tell, honestly. He was the only person who gave a shit, and I liked him well enough that I was able to forgive the whole mutiny thing.” 

It’s way more complicated than that, and now Jim is endlessly curious about how much Silver has said, what his side of the story is. 

He realizes that Connor is still watching him with those hazel green eyes, so bright they look almost white in the midafternoon sun. Jim forces himself to collect his thoughts.

“I dunno, we sort of… had chemistry, I guess. After a while we figured out how to get along.” He drops his hand from his neck and shrugs.

Connor makes a face. 

“I don’t think I wanna know the details.” He mutters, but he’s smirking good naturedly.

“I don’t think you want to either.” Jim mumbles. 

Connor barks a laugh and grins at him. 

“So you  _ are  _ banging, then?” 

Jim doesn’t look at him. He’s a fine liar, and if he wanted to, he could fabricate a whole story that doesn’t involve their romantic relationship. He's done it before, many times. But it seems like a moot point, here. The captain knows, and clearly Connor did as well, if he’s asking so openly about it. Apparently they can fucking  _ smell it _ on him.

At length, Jim responds. 

“How’d you guess?” 

Connor scoffs. 

“Everyone guessed, mate, it’s just that most of us couldn’t care less who’s fucking who.” He grins wryly. “Which works out in my favor, honestly, so I’m not inclined to start messing with the status quo now.” 

A moment of introspective silence, and then:

“And I mean, come on.” He says. “There’s kinda only one place you could’ve gone, last night.” 

Jim grimaces. 

“That obvious, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go flaunting it to all of Nassau.” He says, momentarily serious. “But I’d be surprised if anyone on our ship was in the dark.” 

And yeah, his instinct is still to flinch, or to eye Connor warily. The academy, the Legacy, he’s spent so long hiding this behind the veneer of platonic affection that it feels strange out in the open, like a whole new creature, but the longer the other boy stares into the distance calmly, the more Jim relaxes.  He likes it, knowing that he doesn’t have to worry. Connor doesn’t give a shit, neither does the captain. Or well, they  _ do _ , but Jim doubts they’re going to try and forcefully separate him and Silver.

“Y’know, this place is not what I expected. At all.” He mumbles. 

“Mum runs a tight ship. Literally and figuratively.” Connor smirks, elbowing Jim in the ribs lightly. “Some of the newer guys show up and start acting like this is Tortuga or something.” He grins, a vicious grin full of razorblade teeth. “It’s always fun to watch when mum sets ‘em straight.” 

Jim isn’t sure he would agree. He has a strong stomach, he wouldn’t have made it through the Academy if he didn’t, but the thought of violence for violence’s sake makes him nervous. 

“Planning on sticking around, then?” 

Jim doesn’t answer. He isn’t sure, honestly. He wants to, his heart had made that decision for him ages ago, but planning to stay long term isn’t something he’d honestly thought about outside of as vague, wistful daydreams. 

“It’s… hard to say.” He starts. He’s picking at his fingernails, that anxious tic coming back with the sudden uncertainty. 

Connor looks sympathetic, when Jim turns back to him. His eyes scan the horizon line, mouth twisted in thought. 

“If you really wanna see what this place is like, there’s a council meeting tomorrow. It’s not a formal affair, a bunch of the crews usually attend just to keep in the loop. If you wanna go, nobody’s gonna stop you.”

It sounds like an extended olive branch, one Jim takes eagerly. 

“I think I’d like that.”

He turns at a movement in the corner of his eye, but it’s just Connor. He grins and winks, and then they’re moving again, following the outer path around the weave of ships as Connor talks and explains and tells Jim the history of the place. 

He’s charismatic, but then Jim could have guessed that. It seems to run strong in the family. Occasionally a troupe of children will run by and hoot and holler at Connor, pleading with him to join their games. He stops to indulge some of the younger ones, snapping his teeth and baring his claws and mock roaring before dashing across the bow of whatever ship they’re on to hunt the shrieking, laughing children while their mothers and fathers watch in amusement.  It’s cute, it’s sweet, but more than anything it feels like  _ home.  _ This place might be a hideaway for all manner of outlaws, but there’s also love and innocence that nestles itself in the heart of the ships, between the weapons smuggling and stealing of much needed materials. 

They make it back to the ship in good time, but it’s still been a few hours of wandering. Jim isn’t annoyed, he honestly needed a day to just feel out his new surroundings. As nice as it would have been to spend the day with Silver, this was probably better for him in the long run.  Connor splits off and Jim wanders, searching for Silver with the sort of idle laziness that comes from comfort. 

A little light exploring and Jim is starting to wonder. The ship isn’t very big, and most of the crew are on deck. It’s not concern, he knows very well Silver can take care of himself, but he’s still a little scared the past day will have all been a dream. He’s alone, Morph had elected to go off on his own and Jim was more than happy to let him go. 

He wanders down to the lower rooms, and is investigating the Ranger’s cargo hold when he hears it. Voices. People talking, with the occasional rising volume of clear anger, though the exact words are hard to make out.  He shouldn’t eavesdrop. He wants this crew to like him, and listening in to their conversations is a quick and easy way to lose that favor. But he’s curious, and as he’s debating the familiar rumble of Silver’s voice comes to him, and Jim’s mind is made up. He grits his teeth and follows the sound. 

A heavy wooden door with metal framing is what Jim finds, when he searches for the source. There’s light coming from under the door, and he carefully settles against the wood to listen.  It sounds like arguing. The voices aren’t raised at the moment, not loud enough to carry, at least, but the emotions are running high and Jim feels a stab of worry. 

He zeroes in on Silver’s voice first, as the jumble settles to something easier to parse.

“Have ye met the lad? Every ‘no’ he hears is just an invitation to double down. Once he gets an idea in his head there’s no changin’ his mind.” 

He sounds annoyed, and Jim can guess who they’re talking about. 

“That doesn’t mean you just give in to him!” A man snaps. This voice Jim doesn’t immediately recognize, but the next he does.

“We’re already past the point of no return, love.” The captain sighs. “Ye can complain all ye like but the boy is here and I doubt he’ll take kindly to being pulled away from the one person he knows.” 

The second voice speaks again, and Jim finally places it as the first mate, Rackham. 

“So what, we’re supposed to do nothing?” 

“No.” Annie says, and for a moment Jim feels a chill zip through his blood. He’s reminded of very similar circumstances, of hiding just out of sight and praying he isn’t caught as the whole mutiny is laid out before him in sharp relief.

“You’re going to talk to him. Make nice, be your normal charming self, but do not fucking push. If he decides he has concerns I want him to know you’re on his side.” 

Jim relaxes, just a bit, as one of the two men grunts in agreement. 

“He’s just a kid.” Rackham says, but he sounds tired rather than angry.

“I think you’re not giving him enough credit.” Silver says. 

“I think you’re giving him too much.” Jack replies testily. 

A short bark of Silver’s laugh, tinged with slight bitterness but not tense.

“I’ve underestimated that boy before, I’m not making that mistake again.” 

Jim smiles. He’s still stressed, having the man he loves under fire is never going to be easy, but he’s assured Silver isn’t in danger. 

He gets up and sneaks away, leaving the three still talking. He’s heard all he needs to.

Silver finds him not long after, while Jim is making a slow circuit of the Ranger’s main deck. Jim smiles when a hand lands on his shoulder, and lets Silver guide him towards the back of the ship again.

“Get lost, did ye?” He teases. Jim hums as fingers run gently through his hair. They’ve reached the stern by now, and the limited privacy keeps him from tensing up at the intimate touch.

“I wasn’t gone that long.” Jim argues. “And I you were the one I couldn’t find when I got back.”

Silver’s hand smooths down the younger man’s back, settling between his shoulders for a moment. 

“Had a small disagreement that needed fixing.” He sounds apologetic, and swipes his thumb over Jim’s back one final time before he rests his arms on the railing. “Shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

Silver pauses, hesitating, before tilting his head at Jim and lowering his voice somewhat. 

“Rackham will be looking for ye though, to have a word or two.” 

“I know. I uh… I overheard you talking to them.” Jim admits.

“Overheard.” Silver says, in that way that means he doesn’t entirely believe him. 

Jim winces when he turns to look, rubbing his neck guiltily, but there’s a smile on the older man’s face instead of something disappointed. He figures that means he’s in the clear.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not at first, at least.”

Silver gives him a light shove and Jim shoves right back. They end up closer than before, elbows meeting, and Jim settles against the older man with a smile. 

“He’s not a mean bastard, Jack. Overzealous mayhaps, but he’s good hearted.” 

“You’re telling me to trust him?” Jim asks.

“I’m askin’ ye to treat him kinder than ye think he deserves. We both know ‘telling’ doesn’t do a lick of good with you.” 

Silver musses his hair and Jim huffs. He fixes it and turns back to him, leaning in until he can rest his head against the older man’s shoulder. He’s barely fallen into a comfortable position before Silver lifts his arm and pulls Jim into him. He lets the boy’s head come to rest back against his shoulder and tucks the slighter body between the rail and himself. 

For so long this has been a pure fantasy, something Jim didn’t think he’d ever have the chance to do again. Having it now, feeling Silver warm and solid beside him, around him, it’s more relaxing than anything he’s experienced in the past four years.

“Hey.” Jim says, turning to Silver with a smirk.

Silver looks down at him and Jim tilts his head back. The angle is awkward, but he feels safe. Shielded from the cold and harm alike. 

“Kiss me?” 

Silver laughs, looking away and shaking his head ruefully as Jim grins. 

He doesn’t bother responding, just meets the waiting mouth with his own. Jim hums into the kiss and his knees buckle a little bit, just enough that Silver puts up his left hand to cup his chin. 

“I’m never gonna get tired of that.” Jim gasps as they break. 

Silver smiles at him, a purr resonating in his chest as he leans into the space between Jim’s neck and his shoulder. He breathes in and lets his mouth rest against the tender skin.

He’s just scenting, Jim knows, this isn’t inherently a come on, but his dick doesn’t make that distinction. He’s so used to having Silver breathe him in before or during or after sex that it’s become synonymous in his subconscious.

“I-I’d cut that out, unless you want to end up with me sucking you off right here.” 

Silver pauses, and Jim feels the smirk that mean’s he’s considering continuing anyway. He didn’t say he  _ wasn’t _ up for it, midday or no. 

One last chaste kiss and a deep breath and the older man steps away. Jim grieves the lost contact, the warmth he’s come to be dependent on, but he stays at the railing when Silver moves away. 

Neither of them speaks, there’s no need. It’s not a goodbye, not even in the temporary sense. They’re both within no less than fifty meters at all times, on this ship. The aft rail is quickly becoming one of Jim’s favorite spots. It’s secluded, and quiet, and there’s a nice view of the moored ships stretching off into the valley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know, I’m technically using the term “jailbait” wrong, so sue me.


	4. Possession with Intent to Distribute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Sex, conversations about underage, consensual drug use
> 
> I'm kind of tempted to feel bad that this is entire fic is just smut with trace amounts of plot sandwiched in between, but it's in the spirit of the rest of the series so I figure you're all here for it anyway.

Possession with Intent to Distribute:  _ The possession of a controlled substance with the intent to sell or distribute it. _

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passes slowly. Jim get roped into helping a few of the deckhands, but it’s light work and he finds he actually missed working on a ship. It feels good, right, to have canvas and rope and wood the only things holding him above the ground.  He tries to keep his head on straight, this kind of work doesn’t lend itself to distraction. In the Academy he’d liked that; he had to pay attention or risk falling and breaking something. Now it’s significantly harder, with Silver always just a glance away. Every time he spots the man he almost fumbles or falls, to the point where he stops looking down entirely just to save his balance.

The suns are setting behind the mountains when he’s finally on solid ground again. At least, as solid as the deck of a ship can be. The gentle swaying with the breeze is something he enjoy though, something he misses when he’s back home on Montressor.  The rest of the crew seem content to leave him to his own devices, and Silver is still occupied with his sister, so Jim is giving himself time to enjoy the wind and view at the very front of the ship. It’s not as isolated as the stern is, and occasionally a crewmember will pass him by, but he’s left undisturbed as he rests his newly aching muscles. 

The boards behind him creak with someone’s approach. He knows it isn’t Silver, the cadence of the steps is far too even for that, so he’s not surprised when he turns to see the first mate striding towards him. His face looks somber, but Jim thinks that might be the way he always looks. His eyes are warm, though, where they meet the younger man’s. 

He recalls what Silver had said, earlier in the day, that the man is meant to talk to him. Jim is torn between feigning ignorance or putting his guard up. He doesn’t know Rackham well enough to predict that will get him the better result, and that unnerves him. He can’t read the man either, which is even more unsettling.

“Sir.” Jim says. The man is tall and straight backed, and dressed in blue besides. His training kicks in and he can’t help it, though he winces after. He never liked the navy, and the fact that this stayed with him rankles. 

Rackham smiles, dry but not unfriendly.

“At ease, kid.” He says, and Jim unconsciously relaxes. “Not here to give you trouble, just wanted to talk.” 

He steps up beside Jim, and the younger man notices again how fucking tall he is.

“Navy, huh?” He asks. 

“Academy, actually.” 

A bit of stress Jim didn’t realise was there leaves Rackham’s face. 

“What about you?” He inquires, mostly to be polite. Rackham laughs. It’s light and soft, and Jim gets the impression the man is a lot nicer than the expression on his face tells.

“Once upon a time, but the navy was a different place back then.” 

Jim ponders that for a moment, then decides it’s none of his business.

“You wanted to talk to me, Rackham sir?” He’s still all sorts of wrongfooted here, the man is a total unknown to him.

“Call me Jack, kid.” He smiles, but then his expression sobers. “And, yeah. I was hoping to talk to you privately, if that's okay.” He looks over his shoulder, and Jim does the same. They’re alone, the sounds of people on deck far enough away to be background noise.

“What about?” Jim can guess, but he’s not about to lead the conversation if he can help it. He’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. 

Jack takes a breath and seems to collect himself. 

“Your relationship with Silver.”

Jim’s heart stumbles. He knew this was coming, but it still feels like knowledge he has to keep hidden. 

“What about it?” He mutters, not volunteering any information. Jack’s face softens, a little, sadness creeping in as Jim gets defensive. 

“I’m not trying to pry, kid, trust me, I just…” 

He lets the sentence hang, and Jim forces himself to calm the fuck down. Silver told him about this, that Jack was trustworthy. He’s not in any danger, everyone knows already. 

He lets himself open up, a little bit. 

“We met a couple years ago. I was his cabin boy, and he wasn’t a major asshole. Which is more than I could say for most of the people on the ship.”

“He was nice to you.” 

Jim shrugs. It still feels wrong, telling someone about this, but Jack’s interest seems purely out of concern. 

“I had issues, he helped me. We kind of- bonded, I guess.” That’s simplifying it to an incredible degree, but from the look on Jack’s face he knows that and he doesn’t comment.

“Bonded?” Jack says, and Jim fights down the urge to groan. Of course he’d take that the wrong way. 

“I liked him, he liked me, we got along, okay?” He says, a little sharper than he means to.

Jack’s face goes concerned, and Jim tries valiantly not to roll his eyes, only barely succeeding. He’s had this conversation a few times, so sue him. 

“From what I’ve heard, kid, he lied to you pretty severely.” 

“Yeah, well.” Jim kicks at the rail, scuffing his boot against the deck in the process. It’s not hard enough to do any damage, or even really feel satisfying. The words hang in the air, weighty. There’s years of trauma packed into those two syllables, things Jim is barely willing to discuss with Silver, let alone this total stranger. He keeps his mouth shut, and Jack changes the subject slightly.

“How old were you?” And yep, there it is. Jim bites his cheek to keep from groaning. 

“I was seventeen.” He mutters, a little too sullen for his own liking, but what can he do. 

“Fuck, you’re young.” Jack whispers. Jim forces himself not to puff up. He’s well aware of the age gap between them, how it looks from the outside. He knows what the crew muttered about behind their backs, during the journey. 

“And you two…” Jack sounds upset, but Jim just huffs at him. 

“If you’re gonna put the blame on anyone, put it on me, okay? I went after him.”

That appears to surprise the man, and Jim looks out over the sea of canvas and wood. He’s tired, and trying to put their past and current relationship into words is not what he wants to be doing with his afternoon.

“Look it’s-” Jim sighs, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes. Why does it feel like he’s about to cry? “It’s fucking complicated, okay? We had issues, we messed around and I fell for him, but I’m pretty sure he fell for me too, so it’s fine.” 

“You didn’t know why here was there?” 

“Not at first, no.” Jim admits, running a hand through his hair. “It hurt, when I found out, but he kept me safe, in more ways than one, so I got over it. I know why he did it, even if I don’t like it.” 

Jack goes silent, thinking, and Jim lets him stew. He’s tired of having to explain this to everyone who has even the slightest concern for him. He’s a fucking adult now, even if he technically wasn’t back then. 

“Why come here?” Jack asks.

Jim ponders that for a moment. He thought about Silver for a long time afterwards. Part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, to pick up on the red flags long after the fact, but every angle he’s looked at this from has been the same. 

“Because I missed him. Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since he left.” 

He picks at the rail, just to have something to do with his hands. 

“Because nobody knows me as well as he does, and I don’t want them to.” 

“He didn’t ask you to come?” Jack sounds like he doesn’t quite believe it, and Jim finally lets the annoyance slip through. 

“The last time I so much as talked to him was years ago.” Jim snaps. “Trust me, I’d have been much happier to have been seeing him in secret all that time, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even know where he was or if he’d still want to see me until a day ago.” 

And a little bit of the fear and hurt must show in his voice, because Jack’s face softens. He looks away and sighs, and Jim feels a little bit of the tension in the air release. 

“You really want to be here.” It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.” Jim says anyway, and his voice cracks a little with how badly he wants it.

Another lengthy silence. Jim can feel the other man thinking, and wonders how cacophonous his mind must be right now. 

“Look, he-” Jim starts, stops. His mouth feels dry. 

“He never did anything to hurt me, and everything he did do was to keep me safe. I wouldn’t have made it out of that journey in one piece if he hadn’t stepped in a few times. I know it wasn’t smart, but I knew that at the time too, and it didn’t stop me.” 

The word vomit slows and stops, and Jim looks to Jack, praying that he’s getting the message across. The man is watching him intently, a look of concentration on his face.

Jim rubs his neck. 

“I made a dumb decision, yeah. But I don’t regret making it.”

He looks away. 

Jack lets out a long, exhausted sigh and stands up straight again.  Jim turns to him as he straightens his clothes. His eyes are still scanning the boy, but there’s an acceptance there now that wasn’t present before.

“If anything ever changes, if you need  _ anything _ , you can always ask for help. No judgement.” He says. 

Jack extends a hand to Jim, and the younger man doesn’t hesitate to take it. 

“Deal.” He says. 

And Jack smiles. It’s sad and his eyes are still soft, but Jim thinks that very well could be his normal smile, and he doesn’t think much about it.  Jack turns and walks away, and Jim’s shoulders slump a little. He’s exhausted now, even more than before. These conversations always drain him, but his spirit lifts a little when he remembers that he’s not alone anymore. If he wants to search out Silver to make himself feel better, he can do that now.

The day comes to a close and somehow Jim ends up with Connor on the main deck again, Morph trailing him by a few paces. The suns have set and the main deck is awash in red hues, lit by the lanterns hung around.  The ship is a warm and welcoming place, even as they head into the night. Someone has cracked a barrel of alcohol and most of the crew are well on their way to drunk, or already there. 

Jim still isn’t comfortable getting drunk here, at least not with the crew in general. They’ve been nice, but he wants to stay at least somewhat aware until he can get Silver alone later. They aren’t joined at the hip anymore, but it’s nice like this. Jim knows Silver is nearby if he needs him, but at the same time he can spend a couple hours finding his bearings in this new environment. 

Connor follows him around helpfully, eager to let the other boy in on the insider knowledge. The two deckhands Jim had first met when he boarded are constantly by one another’s side, and Connor explains that they’re mated when Jim comments on their closeness.

Same sex relationships weren’t forbidden, in the Academy, but they were frowned upon. Some of the crueler officers would find excuses to get rid of the cadets who were open about their relationships. Jim never had to face that, thankfully, but he was all too aware of it.  Seeing Brash and Lovell being so openly affectionate makes his heart twist, a little, but then Connor is nudging him in the ribs and making dramatic swoony faces and he laughs instead. 

Honestly, he thinks he might be worrying for nothing. Sure, Jack had a few words with him, but the general reaction he’s gotten from the crew has sort of implied that the rules are different here. According to Connor everyone knows his business already, and the sheer nonchalance makes him think he’s relatively safe. 

There’s a brawl that starts sometime into the evening, and he’s worried at first until money starts changing hands and he can see the looks on the fighter’s faces. They’re smiling, good natured, and it’s more a lively wrestling match than a true fight.  This kind of anarchy would have never flown at the academy, but Jim likes it. It’s a wild kind of night, drinks spilling and loud laughter that Jim hasn’t felt in a long time, and never this rambunctious.

Late into the hours Connor splits off and Jim finds a secluded spot to sit, ending up on the shadowed steps up to the helm. The brawling and betting has wound down, and most of the drinkers have gone to their beds, leaving just a few sober stragglers in groups around the deck.  It’s remarkably like the Benbow, just a few days ago, and the thought that this feels like home makes him smile. He thinks about mom for the first time in days, wondering what she’s doing now that he’s not just a short shuttle ride away.  He’d been away from her before, of course. Treasure planet was his first voyage, but if he wanted to continue to pursue a naval career it couldn’t be his last. There were several month long trips he took that brought him leagues away from Montressor. This feels different, though. More permanent.

A slim figure drops next to him, all long lines and lazy smirks, and Jim barely recognizes Connor without his livewire energy. 

He looks mussed and punchdrunk, his hair in disarray but his clothes collected. Jim spots the man from earlier that day, Jesse, weaving casually through the remaining crew towards the maze of gangplanks, conspicuously in the shadows of the lanterns and away from them. 

Connor takes something from his coat pocket, lighting it and sticking the end in his mouth. It’s shaped like a cigarette, but it looks too rough for that. It’s handrolled, whatever it is, but as he exhales the smoke coming off it smells good. It’s cool, refreshing and warming all at once.

“Having fun?” Connor asks, too amused to be anything but teasing. Jim rolls his eyes. 

“Not as much as you are, apparently.”

His smile is somewhere between smug and hungry. 

“Got a good night ahead a’me, that’s for sure.” He purrs. The accent is stronger, like this, he sounds more like his mother’s side and it throws Jim for a loop for a few seconds.

He takes another drag and Jim notices the way his legs close conspicuously after. He holds it in, head tipped back and almost melted into the stairs, and then lets it out in a breath.

“Want a taste?” Connor offers, eyeing Jim with a knowing smirk.

“What is it?” He asks it like he’s weighing his options, but his hand has already taken the smoke. 

“Maikaroot. Fun stuff, if you’re looking for a good time.” He winks. 

“Aphrodesiac?” Jim asks in a low voice. He’s not as concerned as he was when his bunkmates in the navy tried something similar, but he’s not keen to get caught all the same.

“Oh yeah.” Connor purrs and leans onto his back. His cheeks are getting redder by the moment, and Jim very carefully does not look down at his lap.

Looking across the deck he sees Silver among a few of the other officers. The camaraderie is clear even from a distance, and Jim wonders at how relaxed he looks. It’s a stark contrast to the Legacy, where hindsight allows Jim to see how tense the older man was all the time. Fear of Jim falling into the hands of the crew must have been a constant back then. 

Before he can think on it any further, he takes a long drag, drawing the smoke in and holding it for a long moment before exhaling and coughing into his sleeve. The slight burn in his throat is uncomfortable, and in his mouth the flavor is even sharper, but he works past it and hands the thing back to Connor. 

“How long do I have?” He asks, already feeling pleasantly warm. 

Connor grins wryly at him and takes another drag for himself.

“‘Bout five minutes, give or take.” He says around the joint. 

Jim doesn’t waste any time. Already he can feel his skin getting warmer. He’s on a clock now, and he leaps to his feet with flushing cheeks and a barely hidden cocky smile. 

Walking past Silver towards the bunks he can feel his pulse starting to speed up. He’s hot all of the sudden, the desire to shed his shirt and run his hands over his body becoming apparent. The older man’s eyes flicker to him briefly, then away, then Jim grins widely as he does a surreptitious double take. 

He can feel the eyes on him, watching with razor sharp attention as he runs a hand through his hair like he’s wicking away sweat. It’s not a warm night, and when Jim looks again Silver is shaking his head slightly, smiling and subtly hungry looking.  He can’t help the grin then. He passes Silver and heads toward his bunk, knowing without needing to look that the older man is just far enough behind to not raise suspicion. Morph isn’t present, giving Jim every excuse to go lay himself out naked on the bed.

The door to Silver’s bunk is unlocked, and Jim leaves it ajar after him, standing just inside the room and rubbing a hand over his neck just to revel in how it feels. His shirt is rucked up, his other hand roaming his side and back, down the dip of his spine and up over his chest.

His skin feels different. It’s more sensitive, and the tingling crackle of something completely new against his nerves is electrifying. It’s like he can feel every callous on his hands, where they’re rubbing over the smooth skin of his body.  Jim shoves his shirt up to his collar, retaining just enough wherewithal to kick off his boots before he’s losing himself in the light sensation of his own touch again. 

The door opens, and Jim doesn’t even have time to turn around before the lock is clicking into place and he has a warm, familiar hand reaching under his arm to palm his pecs. It feels even better, Silver’s touch sliding over his skin, enough to coax a deep sigh from his chest.

Jim lets his head fall back against Silver’s shoulder, rewarded for his vulnerability by a hot mouth kissing over the tendons of his neck. He didn’t even think he could be more sensitive there, but this feels different too, though it’s almost  _ too  _ intense for comfort.

“You’re on something, aren’t you?” Silver doesn’t sound upset, and in fact a hint of amusement tinges his voice. 

“Yeah.” Jim answers, honest and unafraid. “Connor was having a smoke, he offered me a hit. Said it’d be a good time.” 

“He tell you to expect this?” Silver prods, and Jim can’t help grinning. Even with everything he’s still looking out for Jim’s well being.

“Yeah, he did.” 

A soft grunt of affirmation, and then Jim is gasping as he’s getting palmed through his pants. He bites his lip and bucks into the pressure.  A soft bite is delivered to his neck, and Jim moans when Silver murmurs into his skin. 

“Getting into trouble on purpose now?” 

“Like I wasn’t always doing that.” He gasps back.

His shirt is peeled off in one motion, and Jim groans as he’s manhandled onto his back on the bed. It almost qualifies as a shove, the motion, Silver’s hand guiding him just enough to prevent Jim from hitting the floor. He bounces onto the mattress, already limp and pliant for the older man’s touch.

The feeling of his pants being pulled down has never been so erotic, and Jim actually has to bite his lip to keep from moaning aloud when Silver pulls his already aching dick out of his pants. It seems neither of them are in the mood for drawing this out, tonight.

“Should make you work for it, filthy little thing.” He teases, giving Jim a few strokes despite his words. The touch doesn’t fade down to a background noise, like it normally would. Jim remains completely aware of everywhere Silver is touching him, and it feels  _ incredible.  _

“You want me to beg?” The younger man pants. “I’ll beg if you want, just don’t stop.” 

The grin Silver flashes makes his body heat up like a furnace, and he moans louder when the older man takes his own cock out and strokes them both in one broad palm. 

“Now that, I’d like to hear.” He purrs. 

That’s all the permission Jim needs. 

“Oh god, please Silver, please give me more.” He moans

“More?” The older man murmurs, already harder than when they started, and Jim parts his lips in an exaggerated groan. 

“Fuck me, please I want to feel you inside me.” He writhes and runs his hands over his body, not even having to play up the desire. “God I’m so fucking empty, I need you. Put your dick inside me already,  _ please,  _ Silver.” 

Silver doesn’t pull his cock out of the tight grip of his palm. Instead he slicks up two of the finger pads on his other hand and presses them against Jim’s ass, pushing gently but insistently against his entrance.  It’s been so long since Jim had anything besides his own fingers inside him, and with the drugs pushing him to the limit it’s almost too much. He’s so sensitive there anyways, and the feeling as those fingers slip inside of him and scissor open makes him groan loudly. 

“Oh _ fuck, yes. _ ” He cries. “Do it, fucking split me open.”

Silver growls and Jim’s breath hitches. His dick is harder than it’s ever been and the feeling of Silver directly against him combined with his fingers massaging his rim is overstimulating. 

“I’m gonna come.  _ Fuck _ , you’re gonna make me come.” He gasps.

Immediately Silver’s hand stops. His grip changes to hold just Jim around the base of his cock, squeezing hard enough to make the younger man yelp. 

“Not yet.” He says. The words are so commanding and full of power that Jim shivers, and he knows if it weren’t for the tight grip around him he would be coming right on the spot. 

Jim whimpers. The fingers inside of him aren’t as thick as the ones on Silver’s flesh hand, but the pads are pinpoint accurate where they press into his prostate. Jim claws at the sheets, panting as Silver rubs circles into that bundle of nerves deep inside of him. 

“Fuck me,  _ fuck _ I want you inside.” He whines.

Finally Silver releases Jim’s cock, and Jim thinks that maybe he’s about to get an orgasm, but he’s disoriented as Silver instead scoops him up and carries him away from the bed. The room isn’t spinning, but it’s definitely blurred with how intently he’s focused on the older man. 

Jim moans deep in his throat as his bare thighs make contact with the desk. He leans back when Silver pushes lightly on his chest, his shoulders settling against the wall as his knees are lifted and pulled apart. 

“Saw you eyeing this last night.” Silver explains, and Jim blinks hazily down at the desk. He had been staring, this exact thing on his mind. The papers have been cleared off and Jim wonders if Silver planned this, and the thought makes him dizzy.

“Fuck yeah.” He breathes, smiling like he’s drunk. The desk is at just the right height to put his ass on level with the older man’s cock. Jim moans and lets his legs be pressed up to his chest, bracing his arms on the desk behind him and using the leverage to lean into a deep, possessive kiss.

The feeling of being breached again after so long has Jim tensing and crying out. He breaks from the kiss to gasp, reassured when Silver pauses and kisses at his neck. 

“A’right?” He asks, voice rough. Even through the haze of drugs Jim grins at the affection there.

“Yeah, just…  _ shit _ . It’s been a long time since I had anything besides my fingers up there. Might be a little tight.” The haze has worn off a little, in the wake of the sudden shock to his system. Silver was almost too much for him on the Legacy, even with how regularly he was getting split open. He’s tried to keep himself used to the stretch in the intervening years, but his fingers aren’t really big enough for that to work. 

“Have to work ye open like it’s yer first time all over again, aye?” Silver murmurs. 

Jim groans, like he’s been punched in the stomach. His cock twitches and leaks precome and he shivers. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ don’t say that or this is gonna be over quick.” 

Silver laughs and bites at his jaw, obligingly going silent and still. Jim’s arms start to ache where they’re holding him up, and he changes one to lay over Silver’s shoulders. It lessens the strain, keeping him more upright and close enough for the two of them to share breath and exchange clumsy, wet kisses.

The first shallow thrust into him seems mostly unintentional. Silver makes one movement and stops, growling and closing his eyes like he’s concentrating, trying not to just slam into Jim before he’s ready. The abortive motion makes Jim gasp with pleasure and then whimper. He’s ready, he’s relaxed, he wants more now. 

“Not hurting.” He moans. “It feels good, Silver, please don’t stop.” 

The grin against his throat is refreshing, and Jim is sure his brain ceases to function as Silver presses the rest of the way into him. 

It’s sweet relief. Jim can feel tears gathering in his eyes, because this is exactly how he remembered it. His body is tight around the cock inside of him, and the heat of it catches him off guard. Silver curls his hands around Jim’s thighs, pulling them apart and moving his calves to either side to make room for him between them.

Silver groans, a low rumble as he rocks gently, pressing as deep into Jim as he can before pulling out slightly. 

Jim actually fucking screams as Silver finally starts fucking him in earnest. His whole body is alight with it, pleasure and affection and pure, unadulterated  _ love _ winding around them as he struggles to breathe.

“Oh fuck,  _ yes _ , fucking ruin me Silver,  _ please _ .” He groans.

The older man growls at him, dragging Jim nearly off the desk and shoving into him hard enough that Jim’s body protests, but he ignores the faint ache. His legs are tight around Silver’s middle and he just holds him tighter as they meet in a harsh kiss. 

The thrusts start to fall out of rhythm and Jim grits his teeth through the pleasure to give as good as he’s gotten.

“Fuck, you feel so good. I can’t hold on, Silver, please I wanna come. I want you to make me come.” His face is hot with desire and his head tips back towards the ceiling so the older man can bite at his collarbones and really make him come apart. The dirty talk feels strange coming out of his mouth, but he likes the feeling, and the hungry snarl he pulls from Silver between thrusts means he’s into it too.

A calloused palm wraps around his dick and Jim knows what’s coming, but the words still take him off his feet.

“G’on then Jimbo. Be a good boy an’ come for me.” He growls. 

The quick jerking of his hand is enough to coax an orgasm from Jim’s overwhelmed body. He gasps and shouts until he loses his voice completely as the thrusting shoves into his prostate, drawing out the pleasure past the point of discomfort. 

Jim comes down from the high right as Silver shoves deep inside him one final time, spilling hot and thick into him and making the boy cry out hoarsely. Even as his limbs are weak with release Jim tugs on the older man’s arms, pulling him relentlessly forward. The heat filling his belly is all well and good but he’s spent the better part of the last four years fantasizing about the last time they fucked and he was stuck on a knot.  He did some research, after the fact. Apparently it’s not that uncommon for mammalian species, and there was a surprising amount of vividly detailed information available when he did a more deep dive. Suffice to say, he’s had plenty of jerk off material.

“F-fucking knot- I want you in me,  _ please _ -” He whines, already feeling the base of the older man’s cock swelling just outside his entrance. 

Silver growls and leans down to press sloppy kisses over his chest, sliding back into Jim’s body with little resistance and no complaint. The younger man cries out as the knot pops past his entrance and settles inside, dragging an exhausted groan from them both as one. 

Jim leans back against the wall, boneless and loose but more than happy to be where he is. His legs are weak and limp where they hang off the desk.

They’re both coming down from the high, Jim’s more literal but only slightly more powerful. His skin still tingles with a shock of sensation everywhere they’re touching, but it’s more muted now. He can tell the effects are wearing off.

Even locked inside him, Silver picks Jim up without even a grunt of effort. Jim clings to him still, arms around his neck and legs locked at the ankle around his back.  He lays them down, settling Jim on his lap and letting the younger man drape over his chest. They’re both still breathing hard, but the rapid gasping of sex is slowing into something closer to sleep.

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” Silver asks roughly, laughing a little. The mechanical hand is kneading lightly at Jim’s ass, while the other strokes his hair away from his sweaty temple where it had stuck.

Jim grins wryly and looks up at him, still amazed he’s in the same room, that he’s touching the one person he’s thought about touching for the years since they parted ways. He huffs a short laugh.

“Blame my bunkmates. The walls were thin in the dorms, you could hear  _ everything _ , and a lot of them were more creative than I am.”

He rubs his face on Silver’s shoulder, and the older man scents him with a hand on his neck. Jim hums into it. He missed the sex, yeah, Silver has permanently ruined him for anyone else ever again, but this is what he was really craving on those late nights. The hours after release, when he has every excuse to cuddle up next to the warmth of Silver’s broad chest and just feel safe, loved. 

Jim shifts, trying to get comfortable, and Silver suddenly growls deep in his chest. It’s more animal than he’s used to, and a little scary when it’s so close. Jim stills, unsure of himself, but Silver just breathes into his neck slowly. 

“Forgot how damn tight you are.” He says, a little breathlessly, a hint of apology in his voice. His hand travels up and down Jim’s spine gently, brushing his skin and playing with the hair at his nape. 

Jim flushes as a thought occurs to him.

“Can- can you come again? With the knot, I mean.” He’s stumbling over his words, excitement and curiosity making him sound shy.

That deadly sounding growl fills the room again, and Jim thinks it might be a good noise. The way Silver pushes into him a bit deeper makes him pretty confident it is, despite how fucking terrifying it sounds. 

“Can, though ‘s not terribly likely. ‘M sure ye could make it happen, I’ve seen how determined ye can be.” He still sounds short of breath, almost gasping, and Jim decides he really likes Silver like this. He might be a foot shorter and half the man’s weight, and stuck on his cock besides, but he’s the one with all the power here. 

Jim decides to go easy on him for now, if only because he knows his body is going to be sore tomorrow and he doesn’t want to push his own luck.

He still drops his voice into a sultry whisper, leaning in and grinning with unashamedly delighted eyes.

“Next time, I wanna see how full you can make me.” 

Silver gapes at him, but Jim can see the way his good eye dilates sharply. He likes that idea. The next second Silver is the one with the predatory smirk, and his cybernetic hand is cupping Jim’s jaw and cheek in a possessive grasp.

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry you said that, boy.” He purrs. 

Jim’s eyes light up, but he forces himself to calm down. The knot is still deep inside him, and he settles on Silver’s chest. The thought of ‘later’ gives him another idea before long, and he peers up with a sly smile. 

“Speaking of ‘next times’...” He trails off. 

Silver sighs. 

“What is it yer planning now?” 

“That thing you said, about my first time all over again.” He gets right to the point, crossing his arms and resting them on Silver’s chest. If he weren’t splayed over the man’s lap it might be casual, but the lewd spread of his thighs and the bare skin of his ass kind of ruins the illusion. 

“Aye?” Silver strokes his hair, brushing it back from his face. Jim leans his head into the affection. It’s a contrast, the care he’s getting now to the complete pounding he just took, but he likes it.

“It was really hot. I wanna try that, pretending like it’s my first time. I want you to talk dirty to me while you do it.” He blushes, embarrassed for the first time in a while. Silver is normally willing to indulge him, but this seems like a step in a weird direction, and he’s not even sure how  _ he _ feels about it.

Before he can second guess himself and try to take it back Silver locks their mouths together and kisses the sense out of him. It’s a fierce kiss, even moreso when Silver bucks into Jim at just the right time to make him cry out from overstimulation. 

He’s grinning as he pulls back. 

“Ye want me to work ye open, that it? Go all slow and careful like yer some tender little thing again?” 

Jim tips his head away with a choked noise only to be reeled in again. Silver grips the back of his head tightly, keeping him still and close enough that their lips touch when he speaks. There’s no escaping this, Jim knows. He’s made his decision and there’s no going back anymore.

That probably shouldn’t make his dick harden, but it does, and he ignores it in favor of staring Silver in the eye when he responds.

“Please.” He gulps.

Silver laughs low and gravelly and grinds into him again. Jim gasps and squirms and stares helplessly back at him with overwhelmed tears blurring his eyes.

“Gods, you’re shameless. Still got me inside and already hungry for more.”

“You love it.” Jim hiccoughs back.

Silver hums in agreement, petting up and down Jim’s back lazily. They’re both too wiped out to do anything more, and Silver finally stops teasing him and lets the younger man come back down to normal. 

“Jack and I had a talk.” Jim mutters, fighting sleep. Some rest would be good for him, but he’s still half convinced he’s going to wake up and find out the past few days have been a dream. 

Silver picks up his head to give Jim his full attention. He didn’t really mean the statement as a conversation starter, more as a general just-so-you-know, but he’s happy to elaborate. 

“I think it went well. He seemed satisfied, and he didn’t go hunt you down right after, so.” He shrugs, noncommittal. “You know him better than I do, though.” 

Silver breathes and Jim lets him process. 

“Jack’s not the conniving type. If he weren’t done we’d know.” He says, and a little bit of the anxiety Jim had unknowingly been harboring evaporates. 

Jim smiles, soft and comfortable, and he sits up to stretch his arms and yawn. His energy is totally drained, and he knows he’s going to sleep like the dead tonight.  The knot has gone down enough to slip out of him with little effort, and Jim mourns the loss but he’s too exhausted to get it up again tonight. A brief cleanup and some readjusting and he’s curling back up on the bed. It’s presumptuous, he realizes as he’s already bedding down, but Silver doesn’t comment at his assumed staying the night and in fact looks privately pleased.  He wraps his arms around a pillow and lets the gentle presence of Silver at his back lull him to sleep. 


	5. Disturbance of the Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where shit gets real, folks.
> 
> Chapter warnings: Sex, domestic violence

Disturbance of the Peace:  _ Upsetting the quiet and good order particularly through loud noise, by fighting or other unsocial behavior which frightens or upsets people. _

* * *

Mornings, Jim has found, are his new favorite thing. 

Almost every day since he stepped foot on the Legacy he’s been waking up before dawn. At first it was chores, then his duties were occasionally mixed in with a sleepy, yawning orgasm that Silver would coax out of his lax frame. After that the Academy had him up sharp and early, awake and aware before he even sat up from bed.  So getting to sleep in, getting to feel Silver softly purring behind him, is a major step up.  It isn’t even the sex, at least, not entirely. He’s slightly sore from the previous night and too relaxed to care about his morning wood. He could lay here all day and be perfectly happy.

Silver is awake, Jim knows. He can feel the steady breathing and he’d peeked over his shoulder earlier and caught him staring, a soft smile on his face. He’s doing something with his cybernetic hand, fiddling with the mechanisms and adjusting them. It’s calm, domestic, and Jim cannot get enough of it.

The older man stirs like he’s making to get up, and Jim isn’t ready for that. He groans and turns from where he’d been curled on his side, resting his upper body on top of Silver to keep him there.  Jim feels the laugh he tries to hide, and the warm hand carding through his hair gives lie to the stern tone Silver tries to take. 

“Think yer clever, do ye?” He asks. Jim doesn’t open his eyes, but he smiles. 

“I know I am.” He mumbles. 

“And what's to stop me from moving ye?” Silver’s hand is still moving, scratching more firmly at Jim’s scalp and making him sigh pleasantly. He takes his time answering, thoroughly enjoying the attention he’s getting.

“The fact that I’m sleeping very peacefully and you don’t want to disturb me.” He says, maybe a bit smugly, still humming at the gentle motion of claws through his hair. 

Jim doesn’t like the conspicuous silence and stillness that follows his statement, and he opens his eyes right as he’s being dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.  It’s not a far fall, and he’s more surprised than annoyed or hurt. Silver is smirking at him and Jim tries to keep up the pout only to fail. A reluctant smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he glares as Silver laughs.

“Bastard.” He mutters. He picks himself up, and considers putting on his clothes and walking out, just to be spiteful, but the bed is still too tempting to ignore. 

“Ah, ye know I didn’t mean it.” He purrs, as Jim lays down with his back to the man. 

Jim harrumphs, ignoring him. He figures Silver has earned some ribbing, but he still gives a half smile over his shoulder to show he’s not  _ actually  _ mad.

“I might start to think you’re trying to tell me something, shoving me out of your bed like that.” He says, conversational. “Maybe I should spend tomorrow night somewhere else, give you your space.” 

A low rumble sounds from behind him and Jim smirks. For all Silver is an expert at riling Jim up, he’s equally as proficient in getting to the other man. He expects some kind of retort, to start a verbal sparring match, but what he gets is a hot mouth kissing up the back of his neck. 

Jim stalls, gulping and finding his breath again. A sudden rush of blood to his cheeks makes him dizzy, or maybe that’s the arousal.  Silver kisses up and down his neck, working all those spots that drive Jim crazy. He licks and sucks and mouths, getting a few weak groans when he finds somewhere particularly sensitive. Jim has always known Silver is good with his mouth, but he’s always had it somewhere else, or gotten kisses in the middle of getting fucked, when his attention was mostly elsewhere. Having this alone, his focus solely on the bruising bites being nipped into his shoulder, it’s incredible.

Silver is grinning that smug grin, but Jim doesn’t even notice anymore. A hand under his chin tips his head back and extends his neck for more love bites, and Jim is totally lost to the sensation.  He groans as Silver sets his teeth into the younger man’s shoulder. He doesn’t bite down, at least not enough to break the skin, but the pressure of his canines sinking lightly into Jim’s muscle makes him wild with desire. 

Right when he’s reaching a hand down his body to ease the ache between his legs, everything abruptly stops.  Jim blinks, dazed and then dismayed as Silver stands and leaves him panting on the bed. His neck is bruised and bitten all to hell, and his boxers tent uncomfortably when he turns on his back to face the older man with an accusatory stare. 

“You planned that.” He grouses.

Silver just smirks at him, and Jim thinks he probably gets a little too much pleasure out of making the boy desperate for relief. 

“Up ye get now. Lots of work to be done today.” 

Jim doesn’t bother to hide his displeasure. He crosses his arms and leans back, showing off the state Silver has put him in. Unfortunately, that just seems to encourage the older man’s taunting. 

“Look at you, all worked up and nothing to do about it.” 

Jim’s lips press together into a single stubborn line, and he stretches back out on the bed. He maintains eye contact with Silver as he runs a hand down his body, smirking, and slips it into his one piece of clothing.  If Silver isn’t going to get him off he’ll just have to do it himself. He wraps a hand around his cock and strokes, biting his lip at the feeling. He’s wired up and ready to go, but he’s barely gotten started before Silver is catching his hand and drawing it away.  Jim moans into the kiss. He bucks, trying to get friction, and being left wanting when Silver takes his other wrist and uses his organic hand to hold them both to the bed. 

“Silver, please.” He whines.

The older man just tsks at him. There’s too much space between their bodies for Jim to grind up against him, and the leak of precome into his undershorts is driving him crazy with what he can’t have.

“Ye can wait until tonight.” 

Jim’s mouth falls open in despair. 

“You’re not even gonna let me come?” He says, in a voice a little too much like panic for comfort. 

“You can hold out for a few hours, can’t ye?” The smug look on Silver’s face says that he knows  _ exactly  _ how badly Jim wants his release, and that he’s enjoying making the boy wait for it. 

_ “Bastard.” _ He gasps again, like he’s just now realizing how accurate the statement is. Silver’s grin stays put as he stands and moves away. 

“You’ll survive today.” He says, in a tone that promises to make it worth Jim’s while if he holds off.

He glares, flopping back onto the bed with a huff.

“Fine. I’ll wait.” He grits out. 

“That's a good lad.” 

Jim closes his eyes and tries not to think about the words, because he  _ knows _ Silver said them precisely for the effect praise has on the younger man. Calming down is going to be much harder if he fixates on the promise of later.

He stands up and puts on his clothes, giving Silver a baleful look as he does. It’s wasted, it just makes the older man smirk at him, and Jim gets little more than a hand ruffling his hair patronizingly before he’s left alone.  Part of him is tempted to strip back down and rub one out, just to get back at Silver, but the larger part of him says to wait for tonight, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.  It still takes a few minutes of thinking boring, unsexy thoughts to calm down enough to be decent, but before long he’s leaving for the main deck just as composed as ever.

The Ranger is more active, today. The crew are milling about, ferrying supplies up and down the gangplank from another ship. Despite the activity, the crew are the only ones to be found. The captain and her first mate are nowhere to be seen, and the work is being overseen by Brash, the lead mechanic. 

Connor snatches Jim up before he can get roped into helping, leading the other boy off towards a ship larger than the Ranger, and with groups idling around it.  It’s empty of supplies, but the ship is laden with people. The shrouds have groups of deckhands seated in them, and around the circumference of the ship there’s a deck that is housing what must be a hundred people of all species and genders.  It’s the most people Jim has seen in one place since his graduation. It was only a few days ago, he remembers with a start. It feels like he’s been here for weeks now, months even. 

Connor drags him along the railing, and Jim notices the dip in the center of the ship where a dozen figures are sitting around a table. Anne is at the head, with her mate at her right hand. Each of the seated figures have anywhere from one to five people standing around or behind them. 

“Head captains, airing grievances to the flagship captain.” Connor whispers to him. They’re close enough to hear clearly the voices talking among themselves. As Jim watches Anne turns her head away from her mate, and Jim spots Silver on her other side. The two men are both larger than her by far, especially standing while she’s seated. Even so, it’s clear who holds the power in this situation. Her chair is not more ornate or better than the others around the table, by all accounts she appears just like the rest of them except for her status at the head of the long table. 

“Airing grievances?” Jim whispers back. 

“Yeah. Ship feuds, stealing, major crimes, news. Stuff the sector captains can’t handle on their own.” 

It sounds extremely reasonable, when it’s put like that, Jim thinks.  A hearty clanging sound echoes throughout the ship, and everyone falls silent as Anne slams the empty tankard down one final time. 

“Meeting has been called to order. Captains, speak as you so desire.” 

For all she looks more proper than Jim has seen her before, the captain is still far from put together, and her language is leagues more casual than he’d expected from an official meeting like this.  Perks of being a pirate and the captain besides, he guesses.

The man sitting directly to Anne’s right stands, bowing deferentially to her before speaking.  Jim tries to pay attention, honestly, but it very rapidly becomes apparent this is a chronically boring affair. 

“Are the meetings always like this?” He whispers to Connor. 

The other boy shrugs. He’s leaning heavily on the rail before them, his arms folded and chin pillowed on them. 

“Sometimes a fight breaks out and mum has to step in, but yeah. There’s some important politics, shit you gotta know if you’re gonna be here long-term, but meeting days are rarely exciting.”

Jim starts to nod, automatically, before he pauses. 

“Who said I was staying long-term?” He asks. 

Connor blinks and turns to him, a knowing smirk already etched on his features. 

“Really? You wanna go back to the navy after  _ this?  _ I saw how much fun you were having last night, at least before you snuck off.” He nudges Jim in the ribs again. 

Jim huffs at him, but he’s smiling. Connor is right. He  _ does  _ feel really at home here. These past couple of days have done wonders for his happiness, and he’s not sure that's entirely related to Silver. Some of it, yes, but Nassau in general has also been very welcoming.

He wants to stay. He wants this to be forever, and then he’s frowning. 

How the fuck is he going to convince the captain to let him stay? More than that, how is he going to convince his  _ mother? _ She knows where he is, had let him go, but he suspects that would be a different story if she thought he was planning on making it permanent. More than that, if he throws his lot in with Nassau there’s no turning back, not ever. He’ll be an outlaw, by association if nothing else. Is he really ready for that?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Anne calling the meeting to order again. She slams down the empty tankard that serves as a makeshift gavel, the sound echoing through the rigging sharply. 

“If that’s all the squabbling for today, I’ve an announcement concerning the supplies.” 

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the crowd, before silence retakes its place. Anne waits, her eyes raking the crowd before she speaks. 

“Several days ago one of the supply ships meant to bring in the luxury goods never showed.” 

Another ripple, this one of sighs and annoyance. The captain has a track record, apparently, and it takes longer for the noise to quiet down this time. 

“Yes, aye, we all guessed the bastard would pull something. In any case, this was Captain Harker’s last chance, and now I’m putting out a bounty. Anyone who sees bow or stern of the Falcon is to report it. I want the bastard found now, understand?” 

A chorus of ‘yes ma’am!’ and ‘aye captain!’ signals the crew’s agreement, and Bonny finally steps down. 

“Meeting adjourned.” She says, slamming the tankard one more time. 

The rest of the people around Jim start to filter out, but he stays where he is. Something nudges at the back of his brain. A fleeting thought, that the name of the ship sounds familiar, like he’s heard it somewhere before. Tracing back through his memory he recalls it. The docks, when he was waiting for Silver. The ship he’d stood across from had been named the Falcon, in large spiral lettering.  Jim isn’t sure he wants to say anything. Clearly the ship has been a source of grief for these people for a while. If he tells them will it just add more anger to the pile? 

No, the captain is too smart to shoot the messenger. And anyway, Silver wouldn’t let that happen. Jim knows he’s safe here.  So he moves with perhaps a bit too much confidence as he steps down the stairs into the indented center of the ship. Some of the captains look at him oddly, as he’s walking towards the head of the table, but nobody moves to stop him. Connor is right behind him, he notices, which likely helps him seem less out of place. 

Silver turns to Jim first, greeting the boy with a gentle brush against his side. Barely there and subtle enough to be unnoticeable from the outside. Jim breathes a little easier, at the touch. He’s safe. 

“Captain? I need to talk to you.” 

Anne and Jack both turn to him, and having so many eyes on him at once is a bit nerve wracking but he holds his ground. 

“That ship you mentioned, the Falcon?” He asks. Bonny nods.

“Aye.” She confirms. “What of it?”

He swallows down the nerves. 

“I saw a ship with that name on the docks, a few days ago. It was unloading cargo.”

Her eyes narrow, and Jim swears the light brown turns a hateful orange for a heartbeat before she looks away with a snarl. She curses, rubbing the bridge of her nose in a familiar gesture before she turns back to him, face more neutral. 

“You’re sure?” She asks. 

Jim hesitates. He doesn’t know what will happen to the crew. If she’s planning on killing them, he wants to be absolutely sure. The thought again that he has no idea what these people are really like hits him, and he falters. 

“I- maybe? I could have…” 

The annoyance reappears, and Anne appears to be about to give a snarky remark when her mates hand comes down on her shoulder. 

“Annie…” 

There’s a teenaged girl, standing beside him. She looks nervous, even moreso than Jim, but she holds her head high. 

“What is it?” Anne says, sharp but not unkind. 

“The Falcon, ma’am. You said to alert you when we’d located it.” 

“Aye.” 

The girl fidgets.

“It- it’s here, ma’am. The Falcon just arrived in the unloading dock.”

The captain looks angrier, somehow. It’s not just annoyance, not anymore, it’s rage. Her vitriol finally has an outlet and Jim knows someone is going to be feeling her wrath.  The girl flees when she’s dismissed, and Anne turns back to Jim. 

“Was it or was it not the Falcon you saw on the docks?” She asks, cold, and Jim stumbles over his words.

“Let the kid come along.” Rackham interrupts, always the voice of reason. “If it’s really the Falcon he saw, seeing the ship should confirm it.” He looks to Jim, cool and controlled and kind, and Jim breathes a little easier. 

Anne breathes, reining in her anger before she turns and stalks towards the gangplanks and walkways. 

“Come on then, jailbait.” She calls. 

Jim goes to follow, but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Silver catches him and Jim stops, meeting the concern in his eyes. 

“Lad, are you sure you want to-”

Jim cuts him off. 

“I need to see this, Silver.” He tries to push down the desperation, the fear. Because he knows what pirates are like, that he might be about to watch men die. “I can’t live in the dark. If I’m going to stay here, I need to know what I’m getting into.” 

And he meets his eyes with determination. He’s scared, yes, but he won’t lie to himself. If he’s not willing to see the worst this place has to offer then he’s not ready to stay. 

He can see Silver’s urge to fight him, to try and tell Jim no, but he releases it with a breath. 

“Come on, then, best follow before she wants our heads too.” 

Jim cracks a wry smile. It’s not funny, but he’s so thankful for Silver. 

People stand to the side as Anne passes on the warpath to the newly docked ship nearby. Men who look strong enough to crush her easily step out of her way and women with years of suffering on their faces sober. Rackham shadows her, easily matching her quick strides, and from behind Jim can see why they’re so respected.  There seems to be an unspoken understanding from all the people they pass that something bad is about to go down, and that everyone is silently thankful not to be on the receiving end of the captain’s fury.

When they reach the empty space Jim had noticed yesterday it’s filled, though the ship still sticks out like a sore thumb. Every other vessel is weighed down with cargo. Boxes and crates and barrels overflowing with food and repair materials and weapons line the decks they pass. The Falcon, by contrast, is ghostly empty. The ship is visibly lighter than those around it, swaying with the wind much more violently. 

From the first glance Jim knows it’s the same ship. The painted wings around the name and the open hold is identical to what he’d seen on the docks, if emptier.  Anne is waiting at the gangplank, and Jim swallows down his nerves at the righteous fury on her face. 

“Well?” She says, voice carrying over the sound of ships creaking. 

“It’s the same one.” He rasps, aware that he could be condemning a dozen or more men to death. 

She storms up the plank, murder in her eyes and Rackham follows a step behind. Jim forces himself to do the same, despite the look Silver gives from his peripheral vision. He has to see this, he has to  _ know _ .

As soon as he’s mounted the deck it’s clear Anne has no interest in the crew. The half dozen men on board go stiff when they spot her and snap to attention, but she storms past them. They all let out a breath of relief, still wary as they watch her climb to the helm. 

“Harker!” She yells, and Jim shudders at the anger in her voice. “Ye’ve got a lot to fuckin’ answer for, now get yer useless arse out here!” 

The ship stays silent in the wake of her voice. Jim wonders if the captain has jumped ship to avoid her. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea, even considering what little he knows of her anger. The rage in her eyes is palpable as she turns to the nearest man. 

“Where is he?” She snarls, and the man visibly winces but doesn’t back down. His arms are folded behind his back and he’s staring straight ahead at the captain, terror writ in every tensed muscle. 

“Captain Harker has been in his cabin since arrival. We weren’t to disturb him unless it was urgent.” 

Anne eyes the locked door near the helm, but then her gaze slides away. She moves over the deck, eyes scanning every crevice and corner meticulously in her path to the helm. Anne doesn’t even look angry, as she’s powering on the ship’s log, she looks cold. The rage has turned to ice and Jim can guess she’s seen something not good by the way her eyes flash.

Just as he starts to fear she’ll kick down the door to the captain’s cabin herself, the door opens with a dramatic bang.

“Captain! So lovely of you to drop by!” A voice calls.

The man who emerges from the cabin is scruffy and unkempt, his brown hair and sharp jaw are all Jim can discern at first. His back is to the ship at large, facing Anne, the greatest threat, head on and leaving the rest of them mostly ignored.

Anne turns on her heel and storms towards him looking ready to commit homicide, and the man backs up quickly. 

“Where the fuck is my cargo, Harker?” She snarls.

“Got lost in transit.” He says, in what might have once been a smooth purr. Maybe it even worked on enough girls to make the man think he’s all powerful over them. 

The captain is unaffected. Her mouth splits, but it’s not a smile, not truly. It’s a wolf’s grin, all long canines and razorblade fangs waiting for the moment to strike. Jim sees a ruthless killer instead of the motherly woman he’s come to know, and the thought makes him shiver.

“Then why am I hearing from a little bird that your ship was unloading cargo at port just a day ago?” She intones sweetly.

The man goes still, and even from a distance Jim can tell when he starts sweating. Something nags at the back of his mind, distantly, but he can’t put a finger on it. 

“Little bird?” The man asks, gritting his teeth, and the feeling intensifies.

“Aye. A clever little hawk showed up and told us about the ship named Falcon what was unloading her cargo. What a funny _fucking_ thing then, that you show up, days late and short everything you were told to bring.” 

Her eyes are blazing, near glowing in the shadows on her face. The man gulps like a fish out of water, searching for a lie. He shrinks down as Anne stalks forwards, descending the stairs to stay out of her reach. 

“Now, now, Captain. I can explain.” He wheedles. 

Anne snarls and the man’s face finally comes into view, and Jim freezes. His brain stutters and then starts going haywire, but his body won’t move. He registers the movement of Silver putting a hand on his shoulder in response to his sudden stillness but he can’t feel a damn thing. He’s too numb from shock and fear and anger all tangled up into a messy ball in his chest. 

His father. Leland Hawkins is the captain of this ship. 

All he can hear is his blood pounding in his veins. His breathing starts to pick up and his feet itch with the desire to move, but he doesn’t know where to go. Part of him wants to flee, to turn tail and run and pretend he never saw the man. The other part of him is overtaken with that rage he’d thought was under control, that visceral animal hate that wants to walk up and punch the man in his stupid fucking throat. 

He doesn’t get the chance to make up his mind. In the time he’s been frozen Leland’s eyes have slid over to him, and a similar mix of shock and disbelief colors his gaze before he covers it with a surprised smile, like bumping into his estranged kid is just a funny coincidence. 

“Jimmy? That you, son?” He says, and there’s that rage again. Jim feels his hands clench into fists, his fingernails biting into his palms and his jaw locks, teeth grinding. Beside him Silver reels briefly, and Jim wonders if the anger is coloring his scent the way he knows his arousal does. 

Jim doesn’t make a sound. His voice is gone with the ability to move. All he can do is stare, and stare, and  _ stare,  _ and pray for the world to start making sense again. 

Everyone has paused, now that he pays attention. Anne’s stalking after the other human has stopped and she’s eyeing between them critically. The rest of the crew have made themselves scarce, leaving just the five of them standing in tense unease. 

Leland makes the first move, stepping towards him with a genuine looking smile, which vanishes as Jim startles into action. He takes one large step back, anger and fear writ on his face, staying upright only by virtue of the railing to his back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jim barks. 

Leland blinks at him, and there’s a bit of shock in his eyes but his gaze is mostly calculating. The gentle smile reappears and Jim breathes hard to keep from reacting too visibly.

“I could ask you the same thing, son.” 

He’s doing what he always did, turning the accusation back to the accuser. 

Jim feels a little bit vindicated at how rough he looks. The years have not been kind to Leland Hawkins. His hair is graying at the temples and his smile is thin, stretched into more of a grimace. They’re almost the same height, now. 

The other three people might as well be nonexistent right up until Anne speaks. 

“Jim, this is your father?” She asks. 

He closes his eyes in a poorly concealed wince. She probably picks up on it, Silver definitely does, but the older human is oblivious. 

“That’s my boy alright.” Leland says, like he’s  _ proud.  _ “You’ve done well for yourself, Jimmy.”

Jim bites his tongue, his cheek, gnaws the inside of his own mouth raw to keep from screaming. Where was that praise when he was a kid, when he actually needed it? Where the fuck was this caring side of his father all his life? 

The same place it is now, he knows. It’s all just window dressing, a front. Hollow and false as its ever been.

“I mean look at you! Walking up here with the captain and everything, got some friends in high places now, huh?” 

Leland is moving towards him now, and Jim goes tense but the pirates thankfully read him better than his father. Anne holds the older Hawkins fast, claws digging into his coat where she grips him with a warning growl. Silver moves towards Jim again, closing the distance enough that the younger man can feel his presence nearby but not so much as to crowd him.  It helps. It’s grounding and comforting and he’s still got Jack as a last line of defense between him and his father.

“Jim.” Silver whispers, low enough not to carry over the disagreement Anne and Leland are having. Jim meets his eyes, his hands trembling faintly, and he sees the offer there.  _ Just say the word and we’re gone. _

He tries to breathe. There’s nausea roiling in his belly, nervous energy he can’t expel. 

Jim shakes his head just slightly.  _ I can handle this.  _ He tries to project, even though he’s not sure if he can.  Silver gives him a nod and steps back just slightly. He’s still within arm’s reach, but Jim is glad for that. He wants it, needs it, if he’s going to face down this demon of his. 

Leland isn’t trying to advance anymore, but his eyes are still fixed on Jim. 

“A little hawk, did you say, Captain?” He asks. 

Jim swallows at the tone in his voice. It’s menacing, dangerous, and it’s enough that for a moment he even forgets that he’s the one with the allies and power here, not his father. Anne’s mouth curls and she shows a hint of her canines, distaste obvious.

“Sold me out, son?” Leland smirks, like it’s all a fun in-joke. “No, I know, you couldn’t have known it was me. Still, my own crew and kid screwing me over…  _ uhf,  _ that hurts.”

“That crew had a perfect fuckin’ record ‘fore you started leading,  _ Harker. _ ” Anne snarls. “It weren’t them makin’ the sales at port, I’ll wager.” 

“And he  _ didn’t _ know who the captain was.” Jack adds. “Otherwise I’m sure he would have told us, right kid?” He looks at Jim, eyes kind and gentle and he’s suddenly back in his own body again. 

Jim nods, and his training kicks in before he can start thinking properly.

“Yessir.” 

Leland guffaws. 

“ _ ‘Yessir.’ _ Finally up and learn some manners, Jimmy?” 

“No thanks to you.” Jim finally snaps. He’s sick of the nickname, of the derisive tone. He’s not that scared little kid anymore, and hasn’t been for a long, long time. 

Leland gawks at him.

“Careful there, son.” He warns, and the veneer of joviality slips.

Anne and Silver both growl lowly, responding to the threat, and Jim feels like he’s on even footing again. Leland looks between them with surprise, comically wide eyed and a nervous smile appearing as he holds up his hands.

“Friends in high places indeed.” He mutters.

Jim doesn’t smile, he’s still too shaken and blindsided to feel anything besides numb, even with Silver and the captain coming to his defense.

“I would watch your tone if I were you, Harker. That boy’s done more to get on our good side in two days than you have in three years.” Jack says, and for the first time Jim has heard him he sounds genuinely threatening.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Leland asks, eyeing Jim too sharply to be an accident. 

“He didn’t fuckin’ steal from me, for one thing.” Anne snaps. 

“If you’ll give me a month I can replace everything the crew sold-” He pleads, in that way that makes it seem like  _ he’s  _ the one being charitable. 

“No.” Anne snarls. “You’ve had yer fuckin’ chance, and ye pissed it away for a profit while the rest of us got nothing.”

Leland opens his mouth to plead, to beg and show his belly and fake loyalty, but he stops and turns to Jim instead. The shade of affection drops. Not all the way, just enough for Jim to see the bitterness just under the surface.

“Got something to say about this, huh? Or are you just gonna play lapdog?” 

Jim’s hackles go up. He’s hurt, he’s confused, he’s angry, and somehow after everything the man has done Leland expects Jim to argue in his defense.

He stands from the railing and takes a step forward. Leland pulls out of Anne’s grip, though it’s clear she’s reluctantly allowing it rather than being overpowered.  It’s still a good several feet between them, but Jim can see every minute twitch of his father’s expressions. He knows how to read the man like an open book, and he searches. Something,  _ anything,  _ he wants to see guilt or regret or remorse on his father’s face. 

There’s nothing. A pleading smile that’s tired and worn but just as icy as he remembers it. Leland hasn’t changed a bit in all the years he’s been away. 

“Do you remember the day you left?” He asks. 

Everything goes still in the wake of those words. Leland’s smile slides inch by inch off his face, and Jim knows he’s finally seeing the real man again, instead of the mask he wears.

“Because I do. Did you know my jaw still hurts, sometimes,  _ dad? _ That the place where you tried to  _ strangle me  _ was black and blue for  _ week s? ”  _

Anne and Jack look furious, and Jim thinks this is probably the first they’re hearing of the abuse, but he keeps going. 

“You never wanted me,  _ fine,  _ I see that now _.  _ But nothing excuses the shit you put me through.”

“I made you stronger, didn’t I?” He says, coolly but with anger building underneath. “You wouldn’t be half the man you are without me. You can hate me all you want, son. I’m the reason you’re where you are now.” 

Jim’s composure, which has been bending and creaking and straining this whole time, finally snaps. He takes a step forward, fists clenched to deck Leland as hard as he can, but he’s pulled up short by Silver.

He’s a little annoyed at being scruffed like a kitten, but the brief pause is enough for him to collect himself. No matter how pissed off he is, fighting his father isn’t going to make that feel better. 

“Go to hell, Leland.” Jim growls. He takes a step back, pushing into the hand at his nape, and Silver moves from restraining him to laying a comforting hand at the small of his back.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed, Leland’s hazel blue eyes zero in on the contact and Jim can see the look on his face, knows that calculating stare. He’s seen behavior he doesn’t like, and is looking for the best course of action to correct it. His glare switches targets, and Jim’s heart sinks when he realizes that he’s finally noticed Silver.

“Replaced me, Jimmy?” His words are directed at the younger man but his gaze is above his head. 

Jim doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and Leland cocks an eyebrow. His eyes flicker between the two of them, assessing. Silver doesn’t remove his hand, and Jim doesn’t move away from him, accidentally leaning his shoulder into the man a little more in a desperate bid for comfort.

Something clicks, in Leland’s eyes. He huffs a joyless laugh, like he’s figured out a puzzle, and shakes his head derisively. His expression turns into something contemptuous, and an utterly poisonous sneer curls his lips as he leans towards Jim again.

“Does he let you call him ‘daddy’, too?” 

Jim goes stiff, body tensing in the time it takes for his heart to beat once. He feels a rumbling growl echo from behind him and Silver makes to hold him back again, but he’s already tearing across the short distance between himself and his father. 

He launches the last stride length, leaping with his hands out and reaching for Leland’s throat with every intention of watching him suffocate. The force of him crashing into the older Hawkins is enough to knock them to the ground with Jim on top, baring his teeth and seething with rage. He pays the hands trying to pry him off no mind, until a fist catches him on the cheek and snaps his head to the side painfully.  He yelps and falls off, clutching his face. He kicks hard at Leland when the man lunges, managing to get a blow at his chest and knock him back onto his ass.

There’s shouting, but Jim hears none of it. As soon as he’s standing again he’s aiming another kick at the older man’s middle, only to have his leg pulled out from under him and get stuck grappling on the floor.  He jerks and twists, but the breath has been punched out of him by the fall and he can barely see past the creeping blackness. Leland puts a hand around his neck and bears down, and Jim claws at him desperately as he’s overpowered. 

Before any damage can be done the captain is tearing them apart with a snarl, sending Leland staggering away from Jim, who is being held back and helped up at once by Jack and Silver both. He gasps for breath and screams to get back into the fray, but they drag him away as the woman tears into Leland with a verbal tirade even Amelia would be impressed by.

He’s taken off the ship and Jim distantly hears Silver telling Jack that he’s got this, go help Annie. The slighter man takes off without a word, leaving Silver to grapple the boy into submission.

Jim snarls, still struggling as he’s picked up. He wants to hurt Leland, to kill him, and even the soothing sounds of Silver shushing him don’t help. All of the sudden he’s that sullen teenager again, angry at the world and his father and desperate for something to make the hurt go away.  It isn’t until Silver is dragging him into his cabin and closing the door that Jim really registers how far he’s been carried. If he were in his right mind he’d be humiliated by having to be dragged away, but he’s still feral with righteous anger and he just tries for the door the second he’s on his feet again. 

It opens a crack before Silver pushes and holds it closed, and Jim snarls at him, blinded by anger. 

“Let me out.” He growls, tugging on the door. 

“Not until ye calm down.” Silver holds firm, and any other time the strength difference between them would be making Jim weak in the knees, but right now he’s too pissed to notice.

Silver’s hand falls from the door as Jim steps back, and they stare at each other in tense silence for a second before Jim is dashing for the door again. There’s tears building in his eyes and he knows the adrenaline is faltering. If he doesn’t get out right now he’s going to collapse and he  _ can’t _ let that happen.

Silver stops him, and this time his other hand wraps around Jim’s upper arm and drags him back. He’s as gentle as he can be while still holding the boy firm, and Jim has just enough cognition not to redirect his anger at Silver. Much as he wants to hurt someone right now he can’t bring himself to fight the older man except in a futile struggle as he’s shoved down into the mattress.  Silver moves his grip to Jim’s forearm and catches his free wrist in his other hand as he struggles. He fights, because he’s never going to not fight, but Silver is taller and stronger and more experienced besides, and Jim is only half trying to escape him anymore. 

He’s pinned, his back on the bed and his chest heaving as he jerks. There are tears brimming in his eyes now and his breath is hitching with the threat of crying. The strength adrenaline had provided is seeping out of him, leaving his legs weak and his hands shaking.  Silver is looming over him, concern and determination on his face as he holds Jim down. His hands are a solid comforting presence where they’re keeping Jim still, and slowly the rage is replaced by fear and pain.

Jim sobs, his head falling to the bed and his eyes closing against the onslaught of emotions. He’s limp and exhausted and he doesn’t even have the strength to move his hands when Silver releases him.  He cries, choking on the hurt until he can’t breathe and he’s scared he’s going to suffocate. Great heaving gulps of air hurt his lungs, the breath like thorns filling his throat and mouth as he gasps. 

Silver moves back and draws Jim’s limp form into his arms, and Jim lets him. He’s so fucking tired and scared, and the feeling of arms around him makes that a little easier. Jim buries his face in Silver’s shirt, his muscles weak and trembling as he gasps. He can’t even close his hand into a full fist, the only reason he’s upright at all is thanks to Silver’s hands supporting his back.

He can’t speak past the tears. He feels broken, shattered. He’d told himself every time he was angry that at least he’d never have to see the man again, and he’d believed it. Now his whole world has tilted on it’s axis and he can’t fucking breathe anymore. 

Silver is soothing him, he notices as his heartrate slows to something healthier than the breakneck pace it had taken when he saw his father’s face. He’s nosing at Jim’s cheek, pressing the softest kisses to his forehead and murmuring assurances that Jim can’t even make sense of right now, but that he believes wholeheartedly.  Slowly his breathing evens out. Jim lets himself calm down, shoving away the instinct to keep fighting. He’s safe, he’s with Silver, nobody is going to hurt him. 

“Back with me?” Silver murmurs, still talking into Jim’s skin. The younger man winces.

“Yeah, m’sorry.” He mumbles through gasps. His fight or flight may have been skewed by trauma, but he still feels like an asshole for fighting so hard. 

Silver sighs, but it’s undeniably relief rather than anything else. His right hand travels up Jim’s back and rests at his neck, cradling the base of his skull and rubbing at his nape with the thumb pad.

“He hurt you?” He asks, pulling Jim’s head back and looking over his face with scrutiny. 

“No.” Jim says automatically. “He barely even grazed me-” 

He cuts off with a hiss as Silver’s hand connects with his cheek. The place where he touches is tender, sore and swollen and Jim brings a hand up to feel that he’s bleeding. 

“Okay, maybe he got me a little.” He admits. 

Silver sighs at him, but there’s a faint trace of a smile on his face. He’s exasperated, but Jim is himself again and it’s clearly a relief. 

He lets Silver set him on the bed, retrieving a cloth bundle from the desk and unrolling it to reveal a medical kit. He cleans the split, and Jim winces at the sting of the antiseptic but he doesn’t complain as Silver analyses it further. 

“It’s not bad, shouldn’t need stitches, anyway.” 

Jim huffs a laugh. 

“At least there’s that.” He says. 

He goes to swallow and the sudden sharp pain in his throat makes him choke slightly. 

“Ow.” He mutters, touching his neck. Immediately Silver’s concern reappears and he prods around the area gingerly when Jim raises his chin.

It’s a little too much like his memories of the last time he’d seen his father, so Jim forces himself to speak past the mild pain. 

“How bad is it?” 

“Long as ye can breathe alright, should be fine.” Silver answers. Jim takes a couple deep ins and outs, and besides a little discomfort it’s just like normal. 

“Seems okay.” He speaks, just to cut the silence. It seems more oppressive than usual, and he really doesn’t want to examine why that is. 

Silver reaches out and takes the younger man by the chin, pulling his still damp eyes up to meet the worried gaze. 

“What happened back there, Jimbo?”

Suddenly silence, even oppressive silence, seems worlds better than the current conversation.

“What do you mean?” He plays dumb. Playing dumb is easier, just fake like you don’t know what they’re talking about and everyone will leave you alone.

Silver gives him an exasperated look, and Jim remembers that never actually worked on him, even when they were still strangers thrown together by chance. He swallows around the pain in his throat, feeling like a kid caught in a lie.

“Want to tell me why ye thought it’d be a good idea to attack him?” Silver clarifies anyway.

From anyone else it would be condescending. It would be patronizing, chastising.  _ James, you know better.  _ But never with Silver. He’s asking to understand, and his concern is for Jim, always Jim.

He shrugs. 

Silver waits. 

Eventually the silence is too thick for Jim to stay quiet. 

“I don’t know, okay?” He says, careful to keep his voice from getting too loud. He doesn’t need anyone hearing more of this than they already have. 

“I just- he kept talking and talking and pretending like he cares, like he _ ever  _ cared, and I couldn’t  _ fucking  _ take it! He was calling me ‘Jimmy’ again, like I’m just some  _ kid  _ to him.” A sound like a sob is creeping into his voice now, and Jim wipes at his eyes angrily to try and stave off the tears, only to make them fall faster. 

“And then he fucking- he fucking said  _ that  _ and I couldn’t-” 

His breath is uneven, and he’s getting pissed off all over again just thinking about it. Jim clenches his fists, lets his palms take the abuse from his nails just to ground himself in the moment. 

“I couldn’t let him get away with it.” He whispers. Leland has gotten away with so much, shit Jim probably doesn’t even know about. He knows the man wasn’t worth it, but in that moment Jim didn’t fucking care. His father, the man who is directly responsible for the worst parts of his life, was right there in front of him. The man who abused and then abandoned him,  _ right there,  _ and Jim couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. 

Jim knows that he’s fucked up, but Leland Hawkins does not get to take the moral high ground now, after  _ fourteen fucking years,  _ because he doesn’t like the way his son turned out.

Movement makes him realise he’s gone silent, and Jim just watches dumbly as Silver moves forward and takes the younger man into his arms again. He stays tensed and alert, but it’s a desire to be in the moment rather than fear.  Clutching Silver back threatens to make him cry all over again, but he bites the inside to his cheek to try and stop it. He’s wasted enough tears over his father for a lifetime, he doesn’t want to give any more.

“I’m sorry. It was dumb of me to try attack him, I wasn’t thinking straight.” He mumbles. The apology feels like it’s more to himself than Silver. He wonders if the whole point of the question wasn’t just to make him sort out his own feelings before they had a chance to fester. 

And then he’s fighting back tears of complete and utter contentment.  _ Fuck,  _ he missed this man.

“You hadn’t hit him one of us three would. Even Jack looked ready to deck ‘im.” Silver says on a possessive growl, and it pulls the first genuine laugh from Jim in a while. 

“Guess he got lucky I was quickest, huh?” His throat is thick with tears but he’s smiling at the thought. With hindsight it makes sense. Anne, Jack, and Silver were all three ready to leap to his defense earlier, it was probably only his ability to read Leland’s tells that allowed him to beat them to the punch.

The possessive growl returns and Silver grunts in something that isn’t quite agreement. He scents the top of the younger man’s head, and Jim melts fully into his embrace. The icy chill of adrenaline is fading and he’s warm and safe and loose again. 

They both jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. 

The door is slightly open, and standing in the open frame is Jack. His face is drawn with concern and empathy, and a bit of awkward shame. He’s sneaky, Jim notes to himself, though it’s entirely possible him and Silver had just been too preoccupied to notice his entrance.

Jack looks like he’s well aware he’s intruding on the situation, but his voice is loud and clear when he speaks.

“The captain wants to see you, when you’re done.” He says.

Jim’s heart plummets. His hand tenses and fists in Silver’s shirt unintentionally and he lets go quickly, not wanting to scare the older man as well as himself. He gets a mildly alarmed look for it, but then Silver turns to Jack and Jim isn’t the center of attention anymore. 

“Give us a moment.” It’s not a request, and Jack doesn’t push. He nods and backs out of the room, closing the door after him. 

“Jimbo, look at me.” 

Jim, reluctantly, looks at him. 

Instead of speaking Silver just cups his cheek and draws him in, pressing their foreheads together. It’s silent, unassuming, but painfully intimate, and Jim relaxes into it.  He’s exhausted all of the sudden. The day has taken a hefty toll on him and he’s not even finished yet. Another pang of dread hits him as he wonders what Anne has to say to him. 

“I’m okay.” He sighs. He’s not, but he can fake it for a little while. 

Silver knows he’s not telling the whole truth with the words, but he doesn’t call him out on it. He brushes gentle knuckles over Jim’s cheek and holds him, and then he releases him for them both to stand. 

It feels like walking to the gallows. The door creaks ominously as it opens and Jim follows Silver out. Jack is nowhere to be found, and Jim assumes he went ahead of them.  They don’t encounter a single person on the walk up to the captain’s cabin. Every step lances more dread into Jim’s soul until he’s completely convinced he’s going to get murdered the moment he steps inside. 

For all his fear, he survives entering the room. 

The door closes behind him and Jim stays standing, tensed and alert. Anne is seated behind a heavy desk, Jack just behind her with his hands crossed at the small of his back. They look uncomfortably like his past professors who were disappointed with his performance in class, but he pushes away the mental image. 

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” He swallows. 

“Aye. I did. Wanted to make sure I understand everything correctly.” 

Jim hides his wince. It’s likely only Silver knows the extent of his trauma where Leland is concerned, the rest of them are probably endlessly confused. 

“Ask away.” 

“Leland Harker, he was your father, yes?” 

Jim starts to nod, then decides to qualify the statement in the interest of clarity. 

“He was still Leland Hawkins, last time I saw him. He could’ve changed it since he left.” 

He chews his lower lip for a moment. 

“Estranged father is probably the best word for it. He hasn’t been ‘dad’ since he up and took off.” 

He’s been studying the far wall this entire time, desperate not to look at the captain. He’s scared of what he’s going to see there. It’s been a long time since anyone compared him to his dad, but he knows those particular dots aren’t difficult to connect.

When he finally turns his eyes to her she looks distressed, which is more than Jim expected. 

“I am so sorry.” She says, and there’s honest sympathy in her eyes. “I hope ye understand, none of us knew who he was, else we would’ve warned ye, at the least.” 

He lets out a long breath. 

“I doubt he told anyone about me, or my mom. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“Mayhaps not, but I still hold m’self responsible for the wellbeing of my crew, and like it or not you’re included among that number.” She says. Jim blinks and looks at her, his mouth opening a little. 

“Regardless, he won’t be bothering ye again.” She continues, and Jim swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn’t care whether Leland lives or dies, just a minute ago he’d been about to strangle the man himself, so why does the idea put a bad taste in his mouth now?

“Where is he?” He asks, because he has to  _ know. _

“Not dead, ‘f that’s what yer thinkin’.” Anne replies with a sharp look. She must have heard the strain in his voice. 

“Excommunicated.” Jack pipes up from behind her. “Nobody is to trade with, talk to, or otherwise help him except in getting as far away from us as possible.” 

Jim tries and fails to hide his wince. For all they seemed to dislike the man, he still feels guilty that they’ve lost an ally on his account. 

“I’m sorry-”

“For what?” Anne interrupts with an impatient lilt to her voice, though the irritation doesn’t seem to be directed at him. “He was a sorry excuse for a pirate and somehow worse as a smuggler. Fuck’s sake boy, you’d do better in his place without a lick of training.” 

She sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“I’m fuckin’ tempted to hand over the ship to ye just on principle. Ye can’t fuck it up much more than he did, anyway, but I think I’ll see how ye work first.”

Jim processes that remark, and then he gawks. 

“Are- are you offering me a job?” He asks.

She shrugs.

“May as well. You’ve already got more training than half the hands around, and I know you’ve got a vested interest in not selling us out first chance ye get.” She glances pointedly at Silver and Jim blushes. 

“You’re not getting the captaincy just like that, mind. I’m not that generous.” She continues, in a more conversational tone. “You’ll need to apprentice before I’ll consider more than a crewman’s role, but I’ll wager that he knows how to keep ye in line.”

Jim follows her eyes to Silver again. He’s having trouble believing what he’s hearing. She’s going to let him stay, and more than that he gets to work on a ship with  _ Silver _ . 

Anne turns to her brother now, smirking. 

“What ye think, aye? Can ye manage not to fuck up my supply routes more than the last bastard?” 

Instead of immediately answering Silver looks at Jim, like he’s searching for any hesitance. There’s none. Jim is staring at him, hope badly hidden under the pretense of nonchalance. He wants this, he wants it more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life, with maybe the exception of Silver himself.

“‘M sure we can manage.” He says, and Jim breathes out. Relief, hope, honest to god  _ happiness. _ The sheer flood of emotion is enough to relax him.

Anne smiles as well, warmth and comfort that fills the room briefly.

“Returning to the matter at hand.” She says, sobering. 

The joy of the life ahead of Jim dampens a little at the memory. 

“Leland Hawkins, your father.” She states, clearly leading up to something. Jim nods, though it pains him to do so. He hasn’t had a father for a long, long time, before Leland was even officially gone. 

“He abused you.” She says it gently, but not as a question. Jim winces. 

“Yeah.” He says, barely loud enough to be hear. Both the long ears on her head swivel towards him before rotating away again. 

“How do you want him handled?” She asks, and a bit of the steel Jim had caught glimpses of shows through in her faint growl. 

“Should he return against our orders, we have a few manners of provoking retreat.” Jack elaborates. “We are more than willing to use nonlethal force as much as possible, but…” He trails off, and Jim catches his meaning. 

Jim thinks long and hard about it. As much as he hates the man, he’s not cold blooded enough to order him killed. Not without due cause. 

“I don’t care.” He says, and his voice doesn’t once waver. “Do whatever you have to, whatever he makes you do. I don’t give a shit what happens to him.” 

The captain’s eyes harden again, and she nods. 

“Understood.” 

She leans forward on her elbows, settling on the desk. The seriousness in the room doesn’t lessen, but it alters. It turns concerned rather than righteously angry. 

“Before ye go, I do have one last thing to ask of you.”

“Anything.” Jim answers, without thinking. He winces after the fact, aware that he’s dealing with pirates, and offering too much will always bring him trouble. 

Anne smiles, long canines glinting, but it’s wry rather than vicious. 

“Relax, lad, nothing that severe.” 

Jim nods, and she continues. 

“Regarding Harker’s morals. I need to know if ye think he’ll go runnin’ to the navy.”

Once again, Jim is totally lost. He opens his mouth, then closes it when he realizes that he has no clue what he is going to say. Would Leland sell them out? There’s honestly no way of knowing.

“I don’t know.” He says, after a lengthy silence. “I don’t think he’s dumb enough to do it, he’d have to turn himself in too, but…” 

The word hangs, uncertain and fearful. Jim knows him best, and he still hasn’t the foggiest idea. He’s startled from his introspection when Jack speaks.

“We’ll keep our guard up, for the next few weeks. Rest assured, Jim, he’s not going to catch us unawares even if he does call in the troops.” 

The words set him at ease, just slightly, and some of the tension in Jim’s spine releases. He sees the look Jack and Anne share out of the corner of his eye, and they seem to come to the same conclusion at once. 

“That’ll be all. Go on and rest, lad. It’s been a long day for us and I’ll wager a longer one for you.”

Jim nods, biting back the sigh or relief. He’s honestly exhausted, and more than ready for sleep even though it’s barely mid-afternoon. 

He feels lightheaded, walking out of the captain’s cabin, but then Silver steps out behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, and Jim suddenly finds his wavering balance. Morph floats up to them, babbling worry and confusion, and Jim fakes enough of a smile to shoo the little fellow off. Much as he loves the shapeshifter, he’s way too worn out to deal with him right now. At least Morph doesn’t hold it against him, fluttering off towards the kitchen contentedly after a soft coo against Jim’s cheek.

Slowly he’s remembering how to breathe. He doesn’t even bother with pretending to go to his own bunk, he just follows after Silver like a lost puppy. The older man closes the door behind him and Jim waits until he’s standing near the bed to wrap his arms around him tightly.  Silver makes a noise that Jim can’t place, like a purr but softer, sadder, and lays a comforting hand over the boy’s shoulders. Jim buries his face in Silver’s side, trying to keep his lungs functioning despite his body seeming to want nothing more than to shut down. 

“A’right?” He asks. 

Jim starts to say  _ “I’m fine” _ automatically before he catches himself. He’s not fine, he’s incredibly fucking far from fine right now, and he’s too tired to pretend otherwise. 

“No.” He mumbles. “No, I’m not, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d-” 

He barely gets the words out before Silver is sweeping him up and laying him on the bed, tucking the smaller body to his chest and sandwiching Jim between himself and the wall. The space is tiny, the two of them taking up only about half of the bed and Silver with his arms keeping Jim caged, but it’s exactly what he needs right now. 

“Thank you.” He sighs, the words shaky as he curls into a ball in the older man’s embrace. He’s sore and tired and everything is fucking awful but this helps him stay grounded.

Silver kisses his forehead and strokes his hair, and Jim just focuses on breathing through the thorns in his lungs.

He’s not sleeping tonight, that much is clear. Even if he could quiet his racing thoughts, he doesn’t want to let himself rest, for fear of what his mind will conjure after today. The nightmares were bad enough when he hadn’t seen his father in years, he’s terrified of what will happen when the memories and wounds are so fresh. 

Aware that he could be brushed off, Jim pushes on Silver and makes a whimpering noise to get his attention. 

“I want you.” He mumbles, shuffling up to press their foreheads together. His head tips back and sighs. He needs to be close, to feel something other than hurt. 

Silver looks at him, worry and unease coloring his gaze, and Jim bites down on the instinct to beg. A thumb brushes over his cheek and Jim leans into it.

“Please...” He mumbles.

This is fucked up.  _ He’s _ fucked up, but Jim is tired of thinking and he wants to just  _ feel. _

Silver sighs and noses the place where Jim’s neck and shoulder meet. His right hand stays curled around the boy’s back, but the left slides down and the fingers brush between his thighs. 

Jim gasps softly. He fumbles between them enough to push his pants down, allowing Silver access to his naked skin. 

Silver just touches him, palming his already hardening dick gingerly, like he’s afraid of Jim coming to his senses. It’s nice, and the sensation is distracting, but it’s not enough. Jim grabs the bottle of oil from where he knows it’s hidden, pushing it maybe a bit aggressively into Silver’s chest.  The older man stills, his hand coming up to take the bottle from Jim’s insistent shoving. He doesn’t move immediately to comply, instead kissing the younger man’s hairline.

“Yer sure?” 

Jim bites back a snarky reply. Now is not the time, Silver is just being careful. He’s making sure, like he always does, and Jim reminds himself that he loves that about him. 

“Please.” He says again, a slight sob cracking his voice. 

A oil slicked finger presses between his legs, rubbing against him gently, but Jim is having none of it. He grits his teeth and presses back, harder than he likely should, but it gets the result he’s looking for. Silver presses in and Jim makes a helpless noise. It’s pleasure mixed with pain and a little desperation, and he squirms back further to take more.

He’s panting between clenched teeth. It hurts, a little, rough and thick, but he likes it. This is what he needs right now, the pain, to force him to stay in the moment. 

“Yeah.” He rasps. “Just like that.” 

Silver presses deeper, crooking his finger just slightly and making Jim whine. He’s so on alert, so sensitive to it and he gasps and clutches at the older man with a wounded moan. He nuzzles against Silver, fighting back the building warmth in his stomach. He’s not ready to come yet, he wants more.  He shakes his head with a helpless noise as another finger slips into him. He’s curled into a tight ball, body trembling as he gasps. It hurts but it feels so good. He’s stretched and vulnerable and wants so badly to feel Silver everywhere around him that the pain doesn’t matter.

“Keep going.” He hisses, when Silver slows as if to check on him. 

“Don’t want to hurt ye.” He murmurs, cupping Jim’s neck. 

“Then go slow, if you have to. Just-” Jim bites his tongue, cuts off the clipped tone. “Please, Silver. I need to feel you. I need you to help me stop thinking,  _ please. _ ” 

He’s crying. Tears are brimming in his eyes and he can’t look up. The dam is breaking, and he needs to be inseparable from Silver otherwise the fear of being left alone is going to suffocate him.  He bucks against the older man, feeling him half hard just from Jim’s squirming. His own cock is starting to take a real interest now, and Jim pushes a hand between them to grind against. They barely have enough space to move, but that just makes it better. 

The third finger is tight inside of him, when it pushes in alongside the others. Jim has to struggle to strip out of his pants and boots, leaving him in just the loose shirt he’d chosen this morning. His legs fold up and around the older man and Jim gasps at the feeling of being pushed deeper into. 

He keens, pushing back and wriggling and wincing at the stretch. He’d taken it’s equivalent easily last night, but he’d been in the throes of desire and high besides. When he isn’t used to the stretch it’s almost too much.  He bites his lip, unwilling to tell Silver to stop. He mewls as the older man loosens him up, going slowly and carefully and stopping periodically to spread more oil between them. The care is evident in everything from Silver’s touch to the soft words he murmurs into Jim’s skin. His right hand is still tight around Jim’s back, holding him close while the other crooks into him again and again.

“Shh, ‘s okay. Yer doin’ so well Jim.” He murmurs. 

Jim doesn’t answer. He’s panting into the sheets, gasping and probably letting spit drip onto the bed, but his mouth won’t close. Every time he tries to shut himself up the urge to cry intensifies and he snaps his jaw open to let out the pleasured noises instead. 

The tip of a finger presses more firmly into that place that feels amazing and Jim’s breathing catches. His dick which has been consistently half hard suddenly twitches, and the tears that were temporarily under control are rushing over him again.  He stuffs his knuckles in his mouth to stifle his cries. The sobs are muffled, less obvious, but it’s still clear from the tears flowing down his cheeks that he’s crying. Silver makes a soft noise, concern maybe, or him checking on the younger man, but Jim just rocks into him more forcefully. He needs this. 

A slow, experimental thrust and Jim gasps as Silver nudges his sweet spot again, parting his fingers with a wet sound and stretching Jim mercilessly. He’s full, his stomach aching and limbs trembling as he rocks his body into the fingers gingerly. 

“Harder.” He pleads. “Please, I want to feel it.” 

Silver goes still, and Jim can hear the debate going on in his head. He’s scared of hurting Jim, of going too far. He wants to argue with Silver, convince him, but his tongue and words both are failing him and Jim is forced to wait.

The hand around his back moves down, rubbing just above the younger man’s tailbone. Silver nuzzles Jim’s forehead and presses his lips to the spot, whispering comfort.  And then he pushes down gently at the same time as his fingers press in, forcing Jim onto him and pulling a sharp squeak from the younger man’s lungs. Jim flails and squirms a little, just to feel the way Silver is pressing against his insides. 

Silver moves faster, shoving deeper, and the squeaks turn to high moans. He isn’t pulling his hand all the way out before he shoves back in, and the fucking is gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt, but Jim can feel every inch of him and he loves it.  He’s small and helpless, but it’s in a way he likes now, a way he can control. He’s pressed to Silver in the most intimate way, their cocks rubbing together with every motion and he buries his face back into Silver’s shirt with a drawn out moan. 

Silver is still talking to him, his words soft to match the steady movement of his hand into Jim’s body. Jim can’t hear him. His vision is blurred with tears and his hearing has been reduced to exclusively that of his blood pounding in his ears. The noises in his own throat are loud though, and so he hears himself with perfect clarity when he speaks. 

“I love you.” 

It’s more a mumble really, his face is still mostly pressed the older man’s chest and his lungs being crushed with every thrust doesn’t help, but he knows Silver hears him when the low sound of his voice goes quiet. 

He doesn’t stop. Jim registers distantly that this is the first time he’s said the words in years, since that last morning on the Legacy. This should probably be a big moment between them, but instead he’s hiccoughed it out in the middle of getting split open. Again.

Silver rumbles at him, purring and still rocking deep into his body, and Jim thinks he can feel the words ‘love you too’ against his forehead. It’s still impossible to hear, he only knows about the purring because he can feel the vibrations against his chest.  He whimpers and writhes, moving his body in time with Silver and he’s crying again, but it’s happy tears now. He tips his head back and kisses the older man, utterly overwhelmed as he’s kissed back just as hard.  It’s devouring, hungry, but it’s desperate and loving too. They’re both in deep, and Jim doesn’t want it any other way. 

Silver keeps going, never slowing or stopping and his other arm around Jim’s back to hold him close. The affection, the complete love surrounding him makes Jim’s breath hitch and he doesn’t even have a moment to think before he’s coming with a choked cry.

The deafening roar of his blood fades, and Jim tunes back in to the sounds of heavy breathing populating the room. His muscles are pleasantly lax, and as if reading his mind Silver doesn’t immediately move to separate them.  Those deft fingers rub circles into the skin of Jim’s back, and he lets the moment hang. It’s not the same basking in the afterglow he’s used to, but it’s worlds better than obsessing over the previous hours.

“Thank you.” Jim says in his cracked voice. 

Silver shakes his head and kisses him, being mindful of the healing cut across his cheekbone.

Jim returns to himself and realizes that Silver is still half hard between them. 

“Do you want me to…?” He asks, offering with a raised hand. 

Silver huffs in gentle laughter. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He rumbles, pulling Jim closer. “I’ve got all I want tonight.” 

Jim is tempted to push, but he lets it go. If Silver wants something he’s not shy about taking it, and they’ve been having sex every night since Jim got here. 

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Despite the calm and the care Jim is still too wired to get any meaningful rest. He lets Silver soothe him and card fingers through his hair, but he’s not ready to close his eyes, already aware of what he’s going to see.  He curls tighter into the older man’s embrace. It’s going to be a long night, but having Silver nearby will help.


	6. Perjury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: sex

Perjury:  _ The offense of willfully telling an untruth in a court after having taken an oath or affirmation. _

* * *

The next morning finds Jim contemplative, and still wreathed in melancholy. 

The crew are giving him space, which he appreciates. He doesn’t think he can hold a civil conversation after what went down yesterday.  His first instinct is to do what he’d do at the Academy to distract himself, and that was pouring his mind into his studies or work. The plan is swiftly shot down, however. He hasn’t taken two steps on deck before captain dismisses him, telling him to go take care of his bruised ego. Her words are sharp, but the tone is caring and kind, and Jim is too exhausted to fight her. He’s sore in the face from his brawl and in the backside from the hours afterwards, and the small amount of sleep Silver coaxed him into getting isn’t nearly enough to make up for all the previous days traumas. 

He turns around and slumps back into the cabin, falling limply onto the bed and bunching the sheets around himself. Silver is elsewhere, no doubt tending to whatever duties he has here, leaving Jim alone with his thoughts.  Without his learned coping mechanism to keep him busy, and Silver absent, Jim feels the old itch to do something reckless and stupid rising within him again. It’s been years since he’d had the thought, and some of the things he was doing in the Academy more than made up for any missed joyrides through restricted airspace. 

This feels dangerous, and likely to lead down a dark path. His hair is lank from sweat, when he runs a hand through it in frustration. It’s been a while since he had an honest to god bath, he realizes. The past few days he’s been making do with the washcloth wipedown after sex every night, and some actual soap sounds amazing. 

The showers are nothing fancy. A few open stalls with a tap overhead and a grate beneath, but the water is lukewarm in contrast to the icy chill he’s used to, so it feels incredible. He scrubs through his hair and washes away the last few days worth of sweat, allowing himself to linger under the spray.  He’s brought back in time, as he washes, but for once it isn’t the Legacy he’s thinking of. Instead he’s back in the showers at the Academy, wide spaces and pristine tile replacing the gnarled wood.  It was nice, and easy to clean, but the expanse of stalls stretching down a hallway always felt uncomfortable to him. He never liked it. It was too open, too easy for another cadet to look over and see him the kind of vulnerable he only ever wants to be with one person. The bright white of the tile never felt right, to him.

This seems safer, strangely. The stall walls come up to his shoulders and he knows by the sheer sparseness of crew on the ship that he’s likely to be alone, at least at this hour. Jim rinses himself and shuts off the water, leaning his head into the wall and closing his eyes. They feel bloodshot, and achy like every other part of him. 

It can’t be more than a few minutes, but Jim still jumps when a hand brushes his shoulder. He jerks around, stumbling a little, but Silver catches him by the shoulder and steadies his form. The soft sounds of the mechanisms working meet his ears, and Jim relaxes immediately. He must have been dozing, if he’d missed the older man’s approach. 

And then he realizes that he was standing stark naked in the shower, where anyone could walk in, and he cringes. 

“Okay?” 

His hair is still wet, and he runs a hand through it. Morph is fluttering around him too, worry in his chirping voice. Jim had noticed his absence, yesterday, but he wasn’t concerned. Morph doesn’t need constant supervision, and here he’s got enough to keep him occupied that being away from either of them isn’t unusual.

“Yeah. Just… still kind of messed up, after yesterday. I guess.” He allows, scratching at Morph’s chin.

He wonders about his mom for the first time in days, what she’s doing. With that thought comes a realization. He’s been here four days already. It’s been five since he left Montressor, and he promised his mom he’d be back soon, to let her know he’s alright.  He hadn’t meant to forget, but being here, with Silver, having so much going on it had just slipped his mind. 

Jim steps out of the shower, noting that his skin has already air dried in places. He wrings out a handful of his hair, shaking out of the worst of the water before he redresses. 

Silver is still watching him closely, when he turns around. There’s concern on his face, poorly concealed behind simple affection, though Jim knows it’s not for a lack of ability. Part of him guiltily wonders if Silver showing his emotions is a deliberate effort. He’d hidden them well on the Legacy, and then Jim chides himself for thinking it. They’re past that, now. 

“I’m okay, I promise.” He says instead, though the bruised feeling under his eyes begs to differ. 

Silver shakes his head at Jim, but he steps closer. The proximity is enough to make the younger man sigh, and he turns to touch his lips to the palm that cradles his jaw. 

“No lies, remember?” Silver says, softly, and Jim winces. 

Yeah, he kind of can’t blame anyone but himself for that one. Even if it is a little white lie, in his mind. Jim doesn’t answer, choosing instead to examine the floor. Morph coos at him and settles on his shoulder on the other side, barely felt but present nonetheless. 

“Nightmares?” Silver asks, rubbing a hand over Jim’s shoulder. He’s stepped closer again, until they’re almost chest to chest.

Jim smiles wanly, shaking his head. 

“Probably, but I don’t remember them, so it’s fine.” 

A pause, then. Silver seems to be debating whether or not to say something. 

“Ye were thrashing around in yer sleep, last night.” He offers, in a low voice. 

Jim winces again. He’d kind of figured his subconscious would have something to say about yesterday’s events, he’s just glad he doesn’t recall any of the trauma his body was apparently reliving without him. 

“Sorry, if I woke you…” He mutters. It’s not often these days that he feels like a scolded child, but yesterday set him into a weird kind of mood it seems. 

Silver shakes his head and Jim blinks passively up at him, still too tired to really process. 

“Jus’ worried ‘bout you.” The older man murmurs, tapping the boy under his chin lightly.

That makes Jim stumble over himself, a little bit. Even now, after all this time and effort and two separate confessions of love, it floors him that someone else really, honestly cares about him.

He stares slack jawed up at Silver for a second before his brain kicks back in and he’s smiling, tired but happy all the same. He stretches up onto his toes, wrapping his arms around the older man’s shoulders and resting his forehead to Silver’s chest. Morph chirps as he’s dislodged but doesn’t seem upset, rather trills happily as the melancholy in the room abates somewhat.  It’s exactly what he needed, to get out of the weird haze he’s been in, and Jim sighs with utter contentment. 

“Take me to bed?” He asks. 

Silver laughs. A low chuckle that shakes his chest and makes Jim grin as well. Without so much as another word he lifts the boy with a hand on either thigh and holds him close to his body as he walks. The short distance to the cabin doesn’t appear to phase him at all, and Jim has to wonder if he’s showing off.  It still makes Jim’s head swim, how easy it is for Silver to move him. He’s a full grown adult now, and even if he’s not much bigger than he was four years ago, the fact that Silver can pick him up and carry him around like he’s a child is extremely impressive.

He toes off his boots as soon as the door closes, squirming to be let go the second they’re back in the cabin. Morph has split off from them sometime during the journey, which Jim thinks is probably for the best. Some water from his shower is still sticking to him in droplets, and the refreshing feeling of being clean after several days has him dropping into the sheets and groaning in euphoria.  He rolls around a little, because he’s more at home here than he’s been anywhere in the past four years, and it’s just… nice. Freeing, to not worry about his bed being primly made for any inspection officers who may drop by. 

His pants have half slid down his legs on their own. He hadn’t had time to buckle his belt before Silver had ferried him down to the cabin, and now it seems dumb, to be wearing pants in bed like this. He sits up and kicks them off eagerly, down to just his shirt and undershorts now.  The mattress dips and Jim leans his back into Silver as he breathes the space between the younger man’s neck and shoulder. His metal hand is braced on the bedding beside where Jim is sitting, and his other traces the curve of his hip visible from the slit in the side of his shirt. 

Jim lays down, and Silver follows him, nose still tucked into his skin and drinking him in deeply. It makes him feel safe, wanted, loved. He has Silver half wrapped over his back and a hand rubbing at his chest. 

“Where did you run off to, this morning?” Jim asks, eyes already sliding closed. 

Silver’s hand keeps moving, one finger dipping under the collar of Jim’s shirt to trace over his sternum. 

“Had to look over the Falcon, get some repairs goin’. Bastard left her in a sorry state of upkeep.” 

Jim doesn’t need to ask who the nameless ‘bastard’ is, and Silver doesn’t clarify. Instead the younger man focuses on the irritation in his voice, a strangely novel thing that he’s only rarely heard before. It’s new, as is the burst of warmth that swells in his breast. Silver was checking up on _ their  _ ship, making sure she’s ready for travel. 

“That bad?” 

He feels Silver shrug against his back, his breath stirring the air around in a sigh. 

“Won’t be hard to fix.” He kisses Jim’s neck, something that almost feels like a habit more than a conscious decision, and his voice drops to an annoyed grumble to add; “Would’ve been easier if the fucker’d just done a little maintenance, but she’ll be as airworthy as new by tomorrow.” 

Jim shakes his head at the tone. They’re talking about his dad, yes, but the language helps to put distance between Jim and the nameless captain of the ship. He could be anyone, and he’s going to pretend the man is for as long as his brain will allow him to.

Silver keeps talking, low and soft about everything and nothing, until Jim doesn’t feel bad about pretending not to be dozing off. His voice is soothing, and being held against him means Jim can turn his head and feel the soft vibrations of sound directly from the older man’s ribcage.

It’s not a conscious effort, to fall asleep, it just becomes easier to close his eyes than to keep them open.

He’s curled loosely within Silver’s embrace, when he comes to again. He’s warm, and apparently has rolled over in his sleep, his head tucked under the older man’s chin and his hands up near his face. Every now and then a finger will trace his spine, or his shoulder, or card through his hair.  It’s nice. Calm and sweet and Jim already feels more well rested. The sunlight streaming in means it can’t have been more than a few hours he was unconscious, but that little time was more than enough to make up for the night. 

He shifts, groaning and snuggling up closer, and Silver purrs at him. They’re both awake, Jim can feel it in the way their breathing is matching up, but he’s not ready to move just yet.

Staring at the ceiling reminds him of the Benbow, amusingly. He thinks about sleeping late while home from the Academy on the rare breaks they had. The surroundings may be vastly different here, but the feeling, the comfort and calm and simple pure  _ love  _ is the same. He’s safe, and warm, and cared for. 

The thoughts of home remind him of mom, and he hopes again that she’s not worrying about him. He said he’d be gone for a few days, and it hasn’t even been a week yet, but still.  Much as he hates to disturb the moment, he can’t put off in inevitable just because he’s too comfy.

“I have to go home, for a little while. Mom will be worried, if I don’t let her know I’m okay.” 

A small part of him was worried Silver would take this as him backing out, the other man doesn’t seem perturbed by the admission. 

“If she’s anything like you she’d chase ye down herself, I reckon.” He jokes instead, and Jim smiles into his palms. 

“She absolutely would. And I don’t think a letter is gonna cut it here.” 

Silver kisses his forehead, and Jim closes his eyes. 

“When’re ye leaving?” 

“Tomorrow, probably.” He sighs. No point in delaying it, and the itch to check in with mom before she sends Amelia is starting to nag at him. “I still have my ship at the port, I can take that and be back in a couple days.”

Silver is quiet, and Jim sees his ear go flat against his head. He’s thinking, he knows, considering something. 

“Take something with you, fer my sake?” 

Silver sits up and Jim pouts at the loss for a second. He’d been perfectly comfortable, damn it, but Silver pulls something from a drawer in the desk and curiosity takes over. 

He sits up when the object is offered to him, and he recognizes a pistol case. It’s an old one, he finds when he opens it, from back when the weapons used metal rounds instead of bolts of hot plasma. It’s a handsome thing, heavier than he’s used to with the navy issue pistols, but not unwieldy. 

“Not all the criminals out here are under Annie’s control, and some of ‘em might be desperate enough to try something foolish.” 

The hilt has a worn down area, near the grip, and Jim traces the spot with his finger. It looks like a scratch mark, or a hundred tiny scratch marks, where his thumb rests when he holds the weapon as if to fire. 

“This… this is yours, isn’t it?” He asks. 

He knows this isn’t the weapon Silver had on the Legacy, that isn’t what he’s asking. This is far older than that anyway, and the grip is curved to fit into the palm on a right hand. 

He looks up at Silver and sees him beaming, proud looking. 

“It was, before this.” He nods at his right shoulder. “No use to me now, but it could still save yer hide.” 

Jim smiles down at the gun brushing his finger over the metal. He picks it up and aims at the door, checking down the sights. It’s different to what he’s used to, but simple enough. He’s worried to take it, concerned at what Amelia is going to think when she notices, which she will. But he’s scared of not returning more, and he places the gun back with care and sets it aside.

“I’ll be careful.” He promises. 

Silver smiles indulgently, and Jim glares halfheartedly. 

“I _can_ be careful, y'know.” He huffs. 

“Take Connor with ye too.” Silver moves on, choosing not to comment. “Don’t need ye getting lost in that canyon.” 

“Mom’s gonna love that. He’s a worse troublemaker than I was, and a pirate on top of it.” 

“He knows how to lay low, when he has to.” 

Jim shrugs. He’ll believe it when he sees it, but he trusts Silver and he doesn’t actually think his mom is going to be upset. At worst Connor will be on his own as far as finding a place to stay, but the Benbow is not the only inn within walking distance.  He sets the gun back into the casing, laying back on the bed and not hesitating to get comfortable. The bed isn’t large, but it’s soft and well endowed with blankets, and smells like Silver besides.

He looks up at the feeling of eyes on him, and finds Silver just... watching. He’s put the closed case out of the way but doesn’t seem inclined to move towards the younger man where he’s laying. The expression is soft, with a bit of disbelief, and Jim thinks he understands the feeling.

He lets it go on a few moments longer before he’s had enough.

“Quit looking at me like that and get over here.” He whines. 

Silver shakes his head at Jim.

“Gettin’ a bit bold there, aren’t ye?” He says, nonetheless moving towards where Jim is laying. 

“Like I wasn’t always.” Jim mutters, smiling and turning onto his back when hands land on the bedding either side of his head. 

Silver hums, and his mechanical hand slides to the side of Jim’s face to cup it, stroking the skin tenderly as their mouths meet. 

The tension drains out of Jim. It’s funny, he’d never liked kissing, before he met Silver. The times he’d tried it with some of his peers it was too wet or felt gross, but with Silver it’s always been different. It’s calming, never too much or not enough, always exactly what he needs when he needs it. 

Silver tries to pull back, but Jim doesn’t let him. He winds his arms around the older man’s shoulders and allows two deep breaths before diving in again. It isn’t an intense kiss, just a simple connection of lips over and over, but he needs it like it’s the air he’s breathing.  Jim gets dragged onto his side as Silver lays down, but he’s more than happy to make the adjustment if it means they get to keep kissing. He reaches his arms up, sinking one hand under the same bandana he remembers from all those years ago and letting the other bunch in Silver’s shirt. The older man follows suit, capturing Jim in his arms and clutching him, still indulging the boy with kisses.

It goes on like that for a while, making out like Jim has been dreaming about in his less filthy fantasies. He never really had the typical teenage makeouts, getting caught feeling up his crush like a regular boy his age, but this is worlds better.

As nice as it is, being curled in Silver’s arms like this, he still hasn’t had enough of being close to the man. 

He pulls his hand from the back of Silver’s head and shoves it down between his thighs, palming himself and groaning softly as he starts to get hard. Silver catches on with a huff of laughter, and the next kiss moves to Jim’s forehead as he’s writhing around. 

“Still not satisfied?” 

Jim grins and looks up through his hair at the older man. 

“Never.” He says, breathy. 

Silver kisses him again, but this time Jim groans as a tongue pushes into his mouth. He lets his own be manipulated, eyes rolling closed in bliss. It’s good, and then even better as Silver uses his right hand on the back of Jim’s head to hold him still. 

“Fuck me?” Jim whispers, into the inches between their mouths. 

He’s still loose and languid with sleep as he’s pushed onto his back. Jim lets his legs part, the thin material of his underclothes doing nothing to hide his interest. He stretches his arms above his head and sighs, then returns them to holding the older man against him greedily. His shirt rides up his belly as Silver settles between his legs, one hand still massaging at the back of the boy’s neck while the other searches for the lube half hidden under a pillow. 

Kisses down the center of his throat draw a groan, and Jim’s closed eyes flutter half open. He rolls his hips, ostensibly impatient, but really he just wants to feel Silver over him, solid and steady where Jim is twitching with need already. 

He gasps as the organic hand frees him of his shorts, wrangling the boy’s long legs out of his clothes with the ease of practice. Silver doesn’t stroke him, not fully, but he does drag a teasing knuckle down the length of his arousal before kneading at Jim’s twitching thigh. 

“Ooh,  _ fuck. _ ” Jim sighs. 

Silver hums, and the telltale slick noises let Jim know he’s slathering oil over his fingers, when he reluctantly pulls them away from the soft skin of the boy’s thighs. Jim perks up, opening his eyes and picking up his head to watch. He places a hand on the older man’s shoulder, getting his attention. 

“Wait.” He says, and Silver halts his movements. He looks at Jim expectantly and the boy takes the oil from him with a smirk. 

“I wanna do it.” He breathes, slicking up the fingers on his right hand quickly. 

Silver breathes out and Jim sees the way his pupil dilates sharply. Desire and hunger clouds his gaze and Jim gulps at the glimpse of something dangerous he sees underneath the want. 

His first finger goes in easily, and the second follows not long after. His legs fall further open, knees up by his chest and one hand shoved down beside his flushed cock. Silver isn’t giving him much room to maneuver, and every roll of his hips pushes them together. The rough fabric of the older man’s shirt is rubbing over Jim’s dick, but the feeling of Silver bearing down on his slim frame stops him caring. 

“Had a lot of practice at this?” Silver murmurs, between lingering kisses to his collarbone. Jim makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a laugh. 

“You don’t know how many times I did this while thinking of you.” Jim had lost count years ago, if he had ever been counting in the first place. It was hard for him to forget about Silver at the best of times. When he was in his bed, alone and aching for release, he never stood a chance.

Without warning Silver pulls Jim up, twisting him around and settling the boy into his lap, chest to back. Jim can feel him, where he’s sitting, his ass right against the bulge of Silver’s cock. He’d taken out his fingers, in the shuffle, not complaining because he knows the older man knows what he likes, what he wants.  Jim can feel Silver staring down, and the soft squeeze of a hand on his hip encourages him to keep going. He gamely sits up on his knees, shoving his fingers back inside and groaning as he puts on a show. It sucks that he can’t kiss the older man like this, but Silver soothes him by leaving hickeys all over the back of his neck. 

His fingers are starting to feel too easy, and Jim adds another with a whine. Opening himself up is something he’s good at, but doing it with Silver watching feels different. He’d fantasized about this exact scenario more times than he can count, and the fact that it’s finally happening makes him dizzy. 

The noises are starting to get loud, and apparently Silver takes note of it right as Jim does. The flesh hand wraps around the younger man’s neck and a couple fingers slip into his mouth, and Jim eagerly moves to sucking on them to try and keep quiet. The powerful mechanical arm wrapped tight around his chest create a sense of confinement, of being trapped, and Jim loves it. He can hear Silver opening his own pants, and makes a barely muffled cry when the older man’s cock presses teasingly against his fingers. 

Jim’s shirt is driving him crazy. The front is brushing over his dick with every movement, a light tickle that’s distracting in it’s consistency.  Like he’s reading Jim’s mind, or more likely his twitching hips, Silver takes pity on his boy. The hand not holding the younger man’s mouth open lifts his shirt up to his chest, and Jim looks down with a sharp cry when he sees his dick harder than ever and flushed red. 

“Good lad, Jim. Keep goin’.” Silver murmurs, and Jim obeys. He separates his fingers to make space, groaning at the stretch. It feels impossibly wide, now, but he knows the second Silver pushes into him it’s going to be tight all over again. 

He adds a fourth finger, knowing he’s close to being ready. His mouth is hanging open, tongue still licking lazily around Silver’s fingers. The hand holding up his shirt wanders over his chest. The soft drag of the finger pads where they skate over his muscles is good, even better when Silver digs them in hard enough that Jim knows he’s going to have distinctly shaped bruises in a few hours. 

He whines and bucks his hips, pleading with Silver. He’s ready, he’s been ready.

“All loose up for me?” He asks. 

Jim nods, shoving his fingers as deep as they’ll go to demonstrate. He can still feel the cock settled against the cleft of his ass, ready to have him the second his hand is out. He pulls out, his body protesting the sudden emptiness as he does. It’s cold and unpleasant, and Jim wriggles in place while he listens to the sound of Silver slicking himself up with deliberate slowness. 

He can’t speak, not with the fingers in his mouth. All he can do is whimper and moan and make frustrated, wordless pleas for the older man to get on with it already.

His hand is still near enough to feel it when Silver presses against his entrance, and Jim jumps to help eagerly. His palm wraps tight around the older man and Jim’s lips turn up at the corners at the sharp intake of breath he earns.  Both their hands guide Silver inside, and Jim forgets the bliss of his fingers the second he’s being penetrated. It’s huge. It always feels huge, but it somehow still manages to shock him every time. 

Jim keens, moving down as slowly as he can, trying to savor the sensation. He loves every second of having the older man inside him, but the first slow push is always the most intense. He’s pretty sure he could come from this alone, with enough foreplay, and someday he’s going to find out.  For now he’s too invested to think properly as Silver finally makes that final shove and hilts all of the way into the smaller man. 

Jim gasps like he’s drowning. His mouth is soaked in spit but it still feels dry as he’s gulping for air. Silver is panting against his shoulder like he’s overheating, and the solid warmth from his chest on Jim’s back furthers the illusion. 

“Holy hells Jim.” He mutters, and the implied praise makes the younger man moan. He’s impaled on the man’s cock and can feel it in his stomach, but the only pain is the agony of desperation for release. 

Jim pleads, his voice still muffled around Silver’s fingers. His hips jerk and feels Silver shift deeper, somehow.

The older man can’t thrust into him, this way. The burden of movement is entirely on Jim, and it’s not long before he’s taking the initiative to move things along.  He lifts up on shaking thighs, groaning as his body stays open after being penetrated. He’s already stretched to the limit but it’s still tight as he settles back. He goes slow, allowing his body to get used to the feeling before pushing himself further. 

Silver’s mechanical hand moves, pushing Jim’s shirt over his head and down his arms before tossing it to the floor. Jim pants, totally naked and his mouth now free to make all the hungry sounds Silver’s fingers had been stifling. The world outside might be cool and crisp with the breeze, but it’s warm in the cabin and Jim is sweating with exertion already.

He drops back, moving a little faster already. The excess slick easing the way makes a wet, obscene noise every time he seats himself fully.  Jim takes it slow, forcing himself not to speed up by biting his lower lip hard. He wants to go faster, to make himself come from this like he knows he can, but he’s holding out. Jim wants to make this last.

Already the muscles of his thighs are starting to burn and ache. The constant up and down is a lot of strain, even enough to put his academy training to the test.  A low growl is starting to fill the room, and Jim can feel Silver’s growing impatience in the nipping kisses at his shoulder. The older man has better self control than most people Jim has met, but even he has a limit, and Jim is determined to find it. 

“C’mon, fuck me.” He whines, fucking himself harder but not speeding up.

Silver rumbles and bites down on Jim’s shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark and make the younger man shout. He laughs, teeth still pushing hard into the delicate skin, and moves to comply with Jim’s plea.

Both hands move to his thighs, just behind his knees, and Jim breathes in hard enough that his lungs sting as he’s lifted up like he’s nothing. His hands flail for purchase and he manages to catch Silver’s arms just behind him, his fingers digging in hard to hold on.  He’s suspended purely in the air. Silver is the only thing supporting him. The man’s chest at his back, his hands under Jim’s knees, his mouth biting along the boy’s shoulders. He’s totally powerless and cries out as he’s lowered down onto Silver’s cock again and again. 

The angle feels like it goes deeper than it reasonably should. Jim cries and pleads with Silver in a strangled voice, begging him to keep going past the whimpering, frightened sounding noises.

“ _ Ah, ah,  _ fuck, that’s so good. Don’t sto- _ ah!  _ Don’t stop...” His voice wavers with every shove into him, and Silver purrs at the tiny noises he’s pulling from the younger man. 

“Always wanted you like this.” Silver whispers, right in Jim’s ear, and his eyes roll back in his head at the thought. Silver, thinking about him, jerking off to the image of Jim in this position. 

“Tell me.” Jim gasps. The pace hasn’t sped up, infuriatingly. It’s still slow and precise and Jim knows he isn’t getting off like this, not with how leisurely the other man is taking him. 

Another low rumble signals to Jim that he’s said the right thing, and if he could make any expression beyond open mouthed, mindless pleasure he’d be smirking. 

“Love seeing you like this. All full up and still hungry for more. Yer mine, aren’t ye Jim?” He nuzzles into Jim’s neck, drinking in his scent. “All mine.” He purrs. 

“Yeah, all yours.” He whimpers. Jim would let Silver do anything in that moment, the surrender feels incredible and already his cock is twitching with the threat of coming untouched.  Silver laughs, warning Jim’s lifting hand from touching his cock with a well placed bite on his neck. 

“Oh no, lad. Ye don’t get to come ‘til I say so.” He clicks his tongue, chiding Jim even as he’s fucking deeper and driving every higher thought from the boy’s head. 

“Silver,  _ please _ .” He gasps, tilting his head back so the older man can see his watery, begging eyes.  He’s dragged into a messy kiss, their lips connecting for several seconds as Silver pauses in pounding into Jim. 

“Forgot how much I love that cute little mouth.” Silver grins against Jim’s cheek. The younger man is shaking all over, sweat on his skin and tears falling from his eyes. 

“Shame I can’t have those lips wrapped around my cock like this.” He whispers the words right in Jim’s ear. It’s filthy, even compared to the rest of the dirty talk, and Jim’s body shudders as Silver rolls his hips, grinding his cock in place.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Silver.” Jim chokes, voice breaking.  He’s close, his dick leaking precome and whole body tightening up, but instead of taking the gasped curse as permission, Silver slows down. 

“Want me to stop?” He says in a low, soft voice. Jim fights through the haze of lust to answer, chest heaving with every breath. 

“Keep going.” He moans.

Silver smirks, and continues. 

“Oh, you’re a good lad, Jim. So warm, all tight around me.” 

The words are doing terrible, wonderful things to Jim. He’s blushing even past the sex flush and his muscles are tightening every time Silver opens his mouth. 

He whimpers as Silver starts really fucking him again. It’s only a matter of time until one of them comes, and Jim is fighting to keep himself from being the first to lose control. The harsh thrusts shoving hard into his prostate doesn’t help, but he reaches a hand down to wrap around the base of his own cock and squeeze, like Silver had done days before. Maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to linger in the moment.

“Overwhelmed, lad?” Silver asks him. “Can’t even keep yerself from coming without a little help, shameful.” He tsks. 

Jim whines, helping to rock himself on the older man’s dick. His entrance is starting to feel sore from the rough fucking, but he can feel the tingling ache of release ready to take him over at a moment’s notice.

“God,  _ Silver… _ ” His voice is failing, ceasing to function as he inches closer. “I’m gonna come…”

The begging is finally starting to fray the older man’s control, and Jim hears a harsh snarl that cuts off on a groan. 

“Ready to take me deep, Jim?” His voice is low and gravelly. 

“Yes, do it,  _ fuck,  _ I want it inside.” He’s almost shouting, now, building pleasure and touch starvation combining to make him desperate, needy. 

Jim moans loudly as Silver pulls his thighs further apart and fucks him faster, pulling out to just the head before shoving back in. Silver comes, and Jim feels it. The faint twitching inside of him gives way to warmth filling him from within, and the deep gasp Silver lets out tells that he’s not done yet. 

Jim manages to gather himself enough to bear down, trying to trigger a knot with the warmth of his body. The sound Silver makes as he clenches his muscles confirms that he’s doing something right, and then Jim relaxes into the feeling he’s becoming addicted to. That quick swell of blood that locks him in, and keeps them together. 

The heavy breathing from behind Jim starts to slow, and the younger man rubs his own still hard dick with a hazy, reckless grin as his legs are lowered back until he’s straddling Silver’s lap.

“Wanna go again?” He asks, face burning with lust. It’s hot, feeling the sticky warmth inside, but he wants to find out how far Silver can go. 

Jim forces himself to wait, to give Silver even a few seconds to collect himself before going further. 

Silver barks a curse Jim has never heard before as the boy grinds down into him. The motion gets the reaction he’d hoped for, the knot inside him bucks up and shoves into his prostate, hard enough that Jim himself shouts and goes a little limp in the spine. 

“That what ye want?” Silver rasps, sitting more upright and dragging his claws down Jim’s spine. 

“Yeah.” He gulps, catching his breath. He’s still a little disoriented from the sudden rush of pleasure, but he manages to wrap his mouth around a few more words. “Wan’ you to fill me.  _ Fuck,  _ I wanna feel you for days.” 

His place in the older man’s lap changes but he barely even notices. Being shoved cheek-down on the bed with his ass in the air doesn’t matter, because Silver is tugging on the knot and making them both groan at the feeling. 

“ _ Oh,  _ that feels good.” He whines. He tries to clench his muscles, to tighten his body and give the older man more warmth to fuck into, but he can’t hold it for long. 

The hungry growl the older man releases as he shoves deep in makes Jim bite back an answering whimper. He relaxes, losing himself in the short thrusts.  Every push goes deep, drawing a soft gasp from Jim’s throat. He’s so small like this, pinned and squirming. The slick sounds as he’s being fucked make his face heat, he can hear the way his body is going loose as the come already inside is moved around. 

One of the pulling thrusts out stretches Jim, even the swollen knot threatening to slip out of him, and he catches his breath at the feeling. He didn’t even know his body could stretch that far, but the solid pressure against him is enough to make his body shudder. 

He’s coming. He came without being touched, and Jim distantly feels the older man groaning as his muscles tighten up again.  Release floods them both, leaving Jim panting and rocking as Silver comes inside him for a second time. He’s high on it, amazed and turned on and so fucking full he aches.

The white-out of pleasure fades as his breathing comes back down to normal. The knot is still hard and heavy inside him, and Jim wonders if Silver could go again, but decides that he’s too used up to withstand it even if he could. He doubts it, from the sound of the heavy breathing of the man behind him, they’re both equally wiped out. 

A hand rests on the back of Jim’s neck, carding through his hair. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, exhaustion returning in the wake of coming so blindingly hard.

“Alright?” Silver asks him, voice rough. Jim sighs a laugh at him, of course Silver’s first reaction is concern.

“So good.” He breathes.

The hand stays put, warm and grounding where everything around Jim is unsubstantial right now. His balance on his knees wavers, and before he even has a chance to ask for it Silver lays them onto their sides.  Jim grimaces at the faint movement in his abdomen. He feels bloated, and vaguely ill, but it’s a small price to pay for this experiment of the older man’s stamina. 

Still, it’s uncomfortable, and Silver picks up on it quickly. 

“Too much for ye?” 

Jim shakes his head, humming as Silver kneads at the back of his neck. He reaches back to touch his fingers the older man’s shoulder, and gets a kiss to the center of his palm for the action. 

“Nah, just… a lot. Not exactly comfortable, but I’ll live.” 

Silver moves his mechanical hand from rubbing at the younger man’s nape and instead draws small circles into his belly. The touch is light, and Jim gasps as he prods at the slight bulge that had appeared. 

“I think that’s all you.” Jim mutters, looking down with something between horror and fascination. He can literally see Silver’s cock through his stomach.

That probably shouldn’t turn him on, but blood rushes to his dick anyway. Jim groans, and Silver laughs, but doesn’t comment. 

They lay there for a while in companionable silence. The knot relaxes over time, but Silver doesn’t pull out right away, instead choosing to hold Jim warm and lax against him until the boy squirms and complains.  The cleanup takes longer than usual, filled with Jim giving Silver baleful looks as his he’s left sitting on a towel to keep from making a mess. Nevermind it had been his idea in the first place. The older man moves around him, running a warm, wet cloth over the places where Jim had spilled over his own belly and thighs. 

“Hey.” Jim says, when he’s finally putting on his underwear again. He’s standing now, off the side of the bed while Silver cleans the towel he’d been sitting on.  Silver picks up his head from the water basin, watching Jim and waiting for him to continue. 

“Love you.” Jim says, mouth twisting into a soft smile. 

Silver crosses the room, already purring, and butts their foreheads together. 

“Love you too.” He says, in a voice soft and thick with emotion that Jim has never heard him use with anyone else.

They’re just staring at each other now, eyes locked and breathing even. Jim has never been more in love in his life, never been happier. He can’t imagine a world where he can’t have this.

“I wanna stay here, with you. I wanna take the captain’s offer.” 

Silver’s expression sobers then, turns serious. His left hand raises to Jim’s cheek, holding it gingerly, like he’s capable of ever hurting the boy.

“It’s not an easy life, Jim, ye understand that, don’t ye? Nobody on the other side of the law will lift a finger to help you if you’re caught.” 

“I don’t want easy. Not without you.” Jim answers, immediately. 

Silver pauses, his thumb stroking Jim’s cheek. 

“Don’t want ye caught up doing things that make ye question yourself.” 

Jim glares, a little annoyed. 

“You really think you’re the worst influence in my life? I was getting into illegal shit way before we met.” He knows Silver has heard of his record, but even Jim forgets it sometimes. He really doesn’t feel like the same sullen teenager anymore, but it wasn’t always petty stuff he got in trouble for. 

“Trespassing isn’t the same as piracy, Jim.” Silver argues. 

“I almost ended up in a reform school.” Jim reminds him. “It wasn’t just trespassing. Mom bailed me out more times than I can count.” 

He sighs, stopping his voice from rising. He can’t really be mad at Silver for making sure he’s making an informed decision.

“I know what I’m getting into, and I know the risks.” He leans his head into Silver’s hand, touching the back of it with his fingers. “It’s worth it.”

He smiles, and Silver tries to hold onto his determination, but it isn’t long before he caves. 

“Can’t say no to you.” He murmurs, and Jim’s lingering annoyance fades. He stretches up on his toes, pressing their lips together briefly. 

One kiss isn’t enough, Jim immediately dives in for another flurry of kisses, grinning and holding them together. He gets to stay here. He gets to wake up next to the one person he cares about every morning from now on. Nothing else matters.


	7. Obstruction of Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Past domestic abuse

Obstruction of Justice:  _ The act of willfully interfering with the process of justice and law especially by influencing a witness or by furnishing false information or otherwise impeding an investigation. _

* * *

The next morning dawns bright and clear. Jim takes Connor with him, true to his word, and straps the gun to his hip. It’s back far enough that it’s hidden by his coat, from the outside he looks completely unassuming. Connor is similarly dressed, even less standout than Jim despite the fact that he’s taller than the other boy by several inches. 

Jim tosses his bag into the skiff, letting Connor clamber up as he says his goodbyes. The other boy doesn’t seem bothered, apparently having given his leave a while ago.  Silver is there to see him off, and Jim refuses to think that this could be their last goodbye. He didn’t think that four years ago, when the situation was reversed, it makes no sense to think it now. 

Still. 

He hugs Silver, part of him shy now that Connor is here to witness them. The older man is less forward too, he doesn’t cup Jim’s chin and kiss him as deeply as he did this morning. 

As usual, it’s Jim who throws caution to the wind. He grabs Silver by the lapels and drags him down into a kiss, holding it as long as he reasonably can before he has to gasp for air.  Silver laughs, kissing Jim back as deeply as he can. He cradles the younger man’s neck in one hand and keeps him close, nuzzling into his cheek even after they part. 

“M’gonna miss you.” Jim whispers. Connor seems content to ignore them, thankfully.

Silver cards a hand through the younger man’s hair. 

“It’ll only be a few days.” 

Jim sniffs. How is it Silver is still the one consoling him? He dives in for one more kiss, this one chaste and sweet, but equally as lingering.  They part, and Jim feels the older man thumbing away his tears. 

“It’s just a few days, it’s just a few days…” He repeats to himself. Silver kisses his head. 

“Attaboy.” 

Jim smiles, sighing and pulling himself back together. He’ll be back soon, this isn’t even a full week. Morph moves from where he’d been hovering around Connor to console Jim, chirping and cooing to the boy softly.

It still feels a little heartrending, taking off with Connor. Jim wonders if this is how Silver felt, leaving him. He holds Morph to his chest, letting the other boy fly the skiff that he hasn’t been taught how to operate yet.  Connor weaves them through the skeins silently, giving Jim time to put himself back together. He’s thankful, and by the time they’re arriving at the docks they’re laughing and joking like a pair of regular teenagers. 

The flight back to Montressor feels quicker, this time around. It’s still most of a day and night, but it’s a little easier with someone else to talk to and switch shifts with. Jim can sleep while Connor flies them, and vice versa.  They whip past the spaceport, and Jim considers stopping to show Connor around the closest thing to Nassau in his home sphere, but decides there’s always later. For now they’re both tired and could use a good rest.

He leaves Connor, Morph and the skiff down in a valley just off the quarry. The space is used little enough that he’s not worried about Connor getting found. Even if he did, it’s not like anybody is looking for pirates out in the middle of nowhere. The officers would probably think Connor’s some new breed of nomadic traveler and send him on his way passively.

The road up to the inn is muddy and damp, signaling one of Montressor’s rare rainstorms has just recently passed. Jim takes care in walking up, paying attention to his footing more than his destination, which might be why it takes him so long to notice the raised voices coming from the inn.

Sarah has more mettle than any man in her life, Jim included, so he doesn’t pick up his pace at the shouting except in the slightest, so subtle as to be unnoticeable. If it were unidentifiable voices he would’ve worried more, the fact that his mother is shouting at someone means she’s reaming out some poor drunk idiot who tried to get clever, handsy, or both.  He expects a man to stumble out of the bar any moment, assisted by the regulars who respect Mrs. Hawkins and are willing to pitch in as impromptu security when needed. The longer the shouting goes on, the more Jim worries, until he’s abandoning his careful walking. He sprints up the remainder of the road, mud flying at his heels as he bursts through the back door with panic on his face. 

The door swings open and Jim stops, as does the shouting. His mother is standing there, hand raised in a point at an all too familiar silhouette. The man has Jim’s same hair color, his jawline, and a look like he’s been caught in a lie. 

“Jim!” Sarah yells. She abandons Leland and runs to her son, patting him down as if checking for injuries. 

“Mom, are you okay?” He touches her shoulder and she meets his eyes. 

“Me? Jim, I’m fine, what about you?” There’s a hint of panic in her gaze, and it only grows as she spots the bruise still bright over his cheek. 

“Aside from where he’s concerned, I’m just great.” He glares. Leland is looking worried now, swallowing down fear, and Jim tries to retain the strength he’d had the first time he saw the man’s face. It was pure rage that fueled him then, but that was before he’d been taken down a peg by the man who used to be his father, and he doesn’t have Silver to protect him this time. 

“Who did this?” She asks, touching a hand to the splotches of purple over his cheekbone. Her voice is cold and angry and Jim feels a stab of relief that her animosity is clearly directed at anyone who would hurt him, even if one of the candidates in her mind is Silver. 

“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Jim says, fixing Leland with a glare over his mother’s shoulder. 

Her anger could make even some of the haughtier military officials Jim has been stuck interacting with crumble. She turns with venom so potent it could kill a dozen men teeming in her eyes, waiting to be unleashed.

“Sarah, you didn’t see the way they were treating him-” Leland says, imploring. Like he’s trying to  _ help  _ Jim, and suddenly the lie he was weaving before Jim walked in is very clear. 

“What, like I matter?” He interrupts. “I was doing fucking fantastic until you showed up.” 

“I was trying to get you out of there, away from them! Son-” 

“Don’t pull that shit with me!” Jim snarls. “You lost that privilege the first time you laid a hand on me!” 

“Sarah, please, I’m begging you.” Leland switches tack again, turning to the woman in the room and pleading. “Those people are not what they seem. They’re going to take our boy, our  _ son _ , and turn him into a criminal, into a  _ killer. _ I know I messed up, Sarah, trust me, I know. But I will apologise for the rest of my life if you’ll just this  _ once  _ listen to me.”

And she goes quiet, for a moment. For a long, long moment, Sarah just stares at Leland. Her eyes move once, a blink as she turns to Jim, gives him one look up and down, and then a blink as she looks back. 

“ _ Our  _ boy?” She says, quiet and dangerous, and Jim takes a step back. Leland himself looks like he just realized how badly he’s fucked up, but he doesn’t have the fortitude to even do something as cowardly as backpedal. 

“You abused our-  _ my  _ son for how many years, behind my back? You took everything out on the boy who wanted nothing more than to please you, and then you left, and now you have the audacity to call him  _ ours _ ?” 

She’s seething. Jim moves out of the way, but to the side of the room away from the door. He’s beside his mother, behind her. She’s protecting him but he’s ready to back her up if needed. He’s not the scared little boy anymore.

“Sarah-” 

A single finger, pointed at the door. The line from her shoulder to her hand is arrow straight, and perfectly clear in it’s meaning.

“Get. Out. Leland.” Sarah grits. Jim has never seen his mother so angry in his life. She’s controlled, the kind of power he still hasn’t mastered is leashed by her, even if with some effort. That anger is the kind that, if looks could kill, Leland would already be dead on the floor. 

The older Hawkins opens his mouth as if to speak, closes it. He looks at Jim, like he’s searching for backup, or more likely a weakness. 

His gaze hardens, and Jim sees something he doesn’t like. For the first time in what feels like forever Jim moves. His hand goes under his jacket, to the gun tucked into the curve of his hip. It’s not loaded, Jim wasn’t comfortable enough to strap a live weapon to his side, but just the sight of it would be enough to stop any attempted muggers. 

Leland spots the movement and his eyes narrow. 

“You wouldn’t kill your own father, would you Jimmy?” He asks, low and menacing, and Jim grits his teeth. 

“I will if I have to.” He says, and he’s proud of how level and deathly calm the words come out. He’s watching carefully, which is what allows him to spot the way Leland swallows and sizes him up. 

A long, tense pause fills the room. It’s thick and heavy and primed like a powder keg, ready to go up at the slightest spark. The longer it drags the more Jim fears he’s going to have to actually point a weapon at Leland, and then he’s terrified of what will happen when he learns the gun is empty. 

The first movement is a step backwards, towards the door. Leland puts up his palms and backs away, slow and steady and Jim watches him go with his heart in his throat.  The door swings shut and Jim pulls his hand away, noticing with some hysteria that he’s shaking all over. 

Sarah turns to him with fear and shock and rushes to his side, not quite catching him but leaning their combined exhausted weight into the table to their back. And then Jim is being assaulted by his mother’s caring touch, by her brushing his cheek and looking him over with both care and frustration. 

“James Hawkins what the hell was that?!” She hisses. Jim stares at her. He’s still coming down from the high of adrenaline, twice in less than a week is… not fantastic feeling. He’s still drained from his last encounter with his father.

“I came back to get dishes and I find him in here waiting, telling me a story about how you’ve been kidnapped and held hostage and are being abused by a whole army of  _ pirates- _ ” 

Jim grabs her face, cups her cheeks and forces her to look at him, to meet the clear blue of his eyes with her own. 

“Mom, I promise you, I’m okay.” 

Sarah stops her tirade for a moment and just breathes. She takes Jim’s wrists and lowers his hands, pulling them both to sit. 

“Tell me what happened.” 

And Jim does. He tells her about getting to Nassau, about seeing Silver again (he leaves out the kissing), about ending up with a whole crew of people who were totally okay with him living among them. He tells her about Anne, and Jack, and Connor, and about how he met his father again. He recounts the fight, the spitting and hissing and the punch, and how Leland had almost got the best of him until the pirates dragged him off and took Jim to get patched up, leaving the older man out in the cold. 

“He really did that to you?” She asks, touching his cheek again. 

Jim nods, wincing a little. It’s healing, but the bruise will be tender for a while still. 

She sighs, dropping her head into a hand and rubbing at her temples. 

“He- Jim, he told me we needed to get the navy and go after you. If you hadn’t shown up, I might’ve even done it.” There’s an apology there, though no remorse. 

Jim clutches her hand. 

They sit in silence for a while, until Jim startles at a harsh cuff to his shoulder. 

“James  _ Pleides _ Hawkins did you bring a weapon into my inn?!” She hisses, craning her neck as if to spot the gun under his coat. Jim can’t help it, he laughs. It’s not even funny, not really, but in contrast to the previous conversation this seems like a walk in the park. 

“It’s not loaded, mom, but...” He unholsters it, pulling the slim weapon and setting it on the table. “Yeah.” 

Sarah looks frightened, if only mildly. She darts her gaze between Jim and the weapon quickly. 

“It’s purely self defense, mom, I swear. I didn’t even want to take it, but Silver made me promise I would.” 

He implores, pleads with his eyes. He knows she doesn’t like the idea of him carrying a gun, much less into her home. This is breaking all sorts of her rules, but Jim thinks if she knew the route he has to take, all the desperate people at port, that she’d understand.  He puts it away, and Sarah turns to look out the window with a sigh. It’s a change of topic, he’s sure they’re going to readdress it at some point, but for now it can wait. 

“Where’s Morph?” She asks. 

Jim shrugs. 

“He’s with Connor. I didn’t want to leave him alone, he’s too easily bored for that, and Morph knows how to find either one of us, if he needs to.” 

“You brought a pirate to my inn.” It’s flat, borderline deadpan, and Jim isn’t sure if she’s joking or not. 

“Technically Connor isn’t at the inn. He’s camped out in the ship, since that’s something he enjoys, apparently.” The guy is weird, even by Jim’s standards, but it’s all the better for this really, so he’s not complaining. “I need him to navigate for me, otherwise I’d be stuck at port as soon as I get back. Taking him along was kind of a requirement.” 

Sarah’s face falls a little. 

“You’re going back?” She feigns lightness, but Jim sees right through it. 

“I wasn’t coming back here to stay.” He still feels guilty for saying it. “I came back to let you know I was alright, because I don’t think you’d actually believe me if I sent a letter.” She dips her head, admitting he has a point. “But, mom, I’m really happy there. The captain said she would let me stay, if I wanted, and I really,  _ really  _ want to.”

There are faint tears welling up in his eyes. He cannot express to her how badly he wants this, how much his heart is aching just being away right now. 

And his mother is looking at him, but she’s seeing right through him. She studies him for a moment, eyes still lingering on his cheek, and then she sighs, so exhausted it’s almost painful. 

“I knew, you know? I knew the second you had a taste of that sky you’d never be satisfied, and I still let you go.” 

Jim stays quiet. Mom isn’t done, she’s just thinking. 

“I don’t regret it, don’t think I’m trying to guilt you into staying, but…” She sighs. “Did you have to grow up so fast?” 

Jim finally allows himself to laugh at the smile on her face. She’s teary eyed, he’s teary eyed, but she’s seen the spark that’s returned to his eyes. The thing inside him that had been slowly dying out is renewed a hundred times over and they both know it. 

“I’m satisfied, mom, really.” It’s literally a dream come true, getting to live and work alongside Silver again, though he’s not going to voice  _ that  _ part out loud. 

“You’re still coming home to see me, nothing short of prison time is getting you out of that.” She says, and Jim is really glad they can joke about it. For the longest time he’d been terrified that he’d have to create an entire double life as a legitimate spacer just to keep his mother from worrying herself to death. 

“I’ll come home as often as I can, mom, I promise. And I’ll write whenever I can’t.” 

“I’m going to hold you to that promise, James Hawkins.” She says.

It’s easy again. For all dad had tried to make things difficult, Sarah is a tougher woman than anybody gave her credit for, especially Leland. 

The thought of his father makes Jim nervous, though. The idea that his dad was here, trying to get mom to send the cavalry after him. It doesn’t bode well, and he’s fearful that Leland might try something else, if he’d been willing to rally Sarah. 

Jim shakes it off. If his father sold out Nassau he’d have to confess to his own crimes as well. The man may be spiteful, but Jim doesn’t think he’s that stupid. 

He helps mom clean up and stays in the back, skulking around and doing chores as she’s working the main room. He doesn’t really want anyone to know he’s here, if he can help it. He’s scared that anyone who spots him will read where he’s been on his face and go running to report him. 

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Jim does the same chores he used to as a kid, hiding out in the back while mom moves around him. Every now and then she’ll walk up and hug him, in between tasks, and Jim will smile and hug her back before they both return to work.  Doppler drops by once, without Amelia and with his children in tow. Jim doesn’t give himself away, and Sarah doesn’t say anything, and soon enough Delbert is leaving again. Sarah already looks lighter, calmed by her friend’s presence. Jim is eternally thankful for Delbert, who has always been there for his mom, even if he’s terrified of being spotted by Amelia.

Night falls, and it isn’t long before the inn clears out. Some of the patrons are staying the night, but for the most part it’s just Jim and his mom, and he uses the time to make a risky decision. 

He’s sitting in the back room, sipping from a warm mug of cider when Sarah walks in and freezes. Her eyes dart between Jim and Connor quickly, the ease of late nights working hardening into suspicion.  To Connor’s credit, he doesn’t miss a beat. He stands from where he’d been sitting across the small table from Jim and bows, suddenly the epitome of well mannered. 

“Ma’am.” He says, simply, as he stands upright again. Connor isn’t that much taller than Jim, but he’s tall enough that Sarah has to look up at him. Her eyes are still sharp with unease, and Jim takes it upon himself to cut the tension.

“Mom, this is Connor. He’s a friend of mine from Nassau.” 

“I remember.” She says, curtly. “The captain’s son.” 

Morph takes this opportunity to rise from where he’d been snacking on the table and fawn over Connor. Apparently he’s taken a liking to the other boy, and Jim would be jealous if he didn’t want so much alone time without the little creature listening in. 

The tension in the room settles, somewhat. Sarah sighs, taking the small stack of dishes she’d been ferrying. She leaves them in the sink and turns, hands on her hips and authoritative. 

“I’m not allowing any piracy business in my inn.” She says, sharp and uncompromising. 

Connor puts up his hands, surrendering at her first warning shot. 

“I’m not here on business, I’m just making sure Jim gets home and back safe. Cross my heart.” He does cross his heart, which Jim finds amusing but Sarah probably less so. 

“They’re smugglers, mom, not pirates.” Jim chimes in, diffusing more of the tension in the air and trying to keep Connor from looking so terrified. The boy knows what to do, at least, keeping his head dipped in supplication. Sarah probably reminds him of his own mother, Jim thinks. 

His mother gives one final sharp once over before she relents. 

“We don’t have any rooms available.” She says, sounding genuinely apologetic. Connor shakes his head, raising a hand.

“No need, ma’am, I’m not staying. Jim just invited me for something to eat.” 

At this Jim stands, taking his mother’s place before she can wash the dishes herself. Connor and Sarah are now standing opposite one another, and it’s a moment before they cave and start up a light conversation.

As much as Sarah tries to stay on her guard, Jim can tell she’s starting to relax. Connor is easy to get along with and even easier to like, and he breathes out relief when she sits to interrogate him instead of standing. Connor does the smart thing and sits with her, keeping them on a level playing field and answering all her questions openly.  By the time the night is up Sarah looks far more comfortable letting her son vanish off into the Etherium for weeks at a time. Connor stands and takes his leave, thanking Sarah for her time and hospitality and scraping Morph off onto Jim for the night. 

Jim takes up Connor’s seat across from his mother, sipping at the dregs of his now cooled cider. 

“So…” He starts, when he notices his mother scrutinizing him. 

She rolls her eyes, and Jim tries, and fails, to hold back his smile. She was enjoying the company, he can tell, but she isn’t going to admit being wrong to her son if she can help it. 

“He seems nice enough. I guess I can’t complain, after asking you to bring a friend home so many times.” She looks like she’s regretting that particular request, and smiles ruefully, but then her expression goes sharp again. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding the subject, though.” 

“What?” Jim asks, trying to keep his eyes from sliding away from his mother’s knowing look. 

“Every time Silver came up you stopped talking.” 

Jim winces. It’s true, every time Connor or Sarah touched upon something tangentially related to Silver he’d gone silent. He’d been fighting not to blush, to keep himself from reacting to the litany of memories from the last week, dirty and companionable alike.

“Did I?” He asks, unconvincingly. His face is definitely flushed. His mom’s eyes get more fed up with him, and she sighs at his obvious discomfort.

“Jim, I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything.” She says it gently, but Jim still flicks his gaze away. She sighs again.

“I know you don’t want your mom digging into your sex life, but I need you to know I’m here if you need me.” 

Jim fights past the furious blush. As much as he really doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now, he’s again grateful for his mom’s understanding. 

“I promise you, mom, I’m happy.” He says, when he can speak in more than a mumble again.

Sarah pats his hand where it rests on the table, calming. She stands to leave, and Jim stays at the table to finish his drink before heading to bed. 

“Oh, and Jim?” She says, stopping at the door to the main room. 

Jim pauses and glances at her, wary. 

“Wear something with a high collar tomorrow. I don’t want you to have to answer any of Delbert's awkward questions if he stops by.” 

Jim slaps a hand to his neck, hitting upon the hickey peeking out of his shirt. His face reddens for the final time that night and hunches his shoulders to hide his throat. 

“Night mom.” He mutters, trying to hurry her on her way. 

She doesn’t say anything, but Jim gets the impression she’s laughing at his expense as she douses all but one of the lights and heads to bed.

* * *

Jim wakes to Morph playing with his hair.  His first instinct is to bat Silver away, already used to the man’s presence in early mornings and mournful of the loss when he instead shoos away his tiny companion. 

He gets dressed slowly, lethargic without someone else to help him wake up. He’s reliant on Silver already, missing the warmth and presence that’s so comforting to him. It’s tempting to stay in bed where it’s comfortable, but in that same token he knows if he does he’s going to spend all his time wrapped around a pillow trying to pretend like he’s back on The Ranger.  Slumping downstairs, there’s next to nobody at the inn yet. His mother can be heard moving around in the backroom, preparing for the day. Jim enters the kitchen, Morph trailing along behind him. He downs a meal while Sarah moves out into the main room, leaving the door ajar. 

The first bell toll of a the door opening isn’t unusual, and Jim doesn’t pay it any mind at first. Several tromping sets of footsteps draws more of his attention, and then the back of his neck prickles with unease as multiple voices can be heard. 

He stands, and from the window between the kitchen and the main room he can see several men and women in uniforms, familiar uniforms. The crisp white lines of the academy’s officer’s corp.  Jim’s stomach drops, turns to ice. He hears raised voices and his name, and before he can even think to run for it another officer has entered through the backdoor behind him. 

“He’s in here!” The shout makes Jim jump, and panic settles in his body. The door to the main room is opened and he rushes out when his mother shouts his name, frightened. 

None of the officers try to stop him, and when he reaches his mother her face is twisted with worry and protective anger. One of the men has a hand on her arm, and she pulls out of his grip right as Jim is getting ready to punch the kid not much older than he is. 

She goes to him and grasps his wrists, looking just as scared and confused as he is. 

“Mom, what’s going on?” 

She shakes her head. Jim looks around at the officers surrounding him. Some of them he recognizes from classes, or from walking through the bounty hall, but none of them look at all sympathetic aside from Amelia. 

She’s here, Jim registers, and anger pulses through him, but it’s muted behind fear, behind the sinking dread of knowing that everything is about to fall apart.

“Mister Hawkins.” Amelia says, and Jim turns to her. 

“Amelia, what’s going on?” 

Her eyes soften, sympathy and the desire for justice warring within her.

“Mister Hawkins, would you care to tell us where you were the past week?” 

Jim tries to keep his cool, but he’s scared shitless and it shows. 

“I was working. I have an apprenticeship on a cargo vessel.” 

She closes her eyes, almost a wince, before opening them. They’re harder, now, and Jim sees the face of the stone cold captain he’d met on the Legacy all those years ago.

“James Pleides Hawkins, as of this moment you are under house arrest.” 

Jim’s blood sinks. He freezes, anger and terror overpowered by the sheer shock of what’s happening. 

“What?” 

Two of the officers have moved behind him, and when Jim tries to take a step forward they swoop into action, each holding of of his arms. He fights them, struggles, but he’s still weak with surprise. His jacket is open and swirls around his body as he bucks, and he’s acutely aware of the holster being out in the open.

“On what charges?” He snarls, whirling as best he can on the rest of the officers. 

“No ships docked at the Montressor spaceport have your name signed.” She looks deeply saddened by this, like she truly wanted to believe Jim’s lie. “An informant came forward placing you as aiding and abetting a faction of anarchists in the Carinean nebula.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he shakes his head.

“No! You don’t have any evidence where I was!” 

Amelia’s face warps into anger, and Jim shouts as she pulls the still unloaded gun from his hip. 

“Where did you get this, James?” She asks. 

Jim doesn’t answer. She knows very well where he got it. That kind of weapon has been outlawed for years, and only criminals use them now. Her eyes track down, following the loose collar of his shirt that all too clearly shows the harsh, distinctly shaped bruises all over his chest and neck.

“Take this to forensics, have them search it for any identifying marks. I doubt Silver would have given you a weapon he didn’t trust to perform well.” 

She looks at Jim, as the weapon is sealed into a evidence container.  His mouth falls open, and he shakes his head. No, this can’t be happening. He tries to take another step, falling half forward and having to be caught by the officers. 

“Amelia, please.”

Amelia looks at him, and Jim can see a sliver of pity and guilt under the ice cold veneer. 

“I am so sorry for this James.”

Jim just stands there, completely mute, as a few soldiers lock a tracking device around his wrist. He tugs at it, terror and understanding of his situation sinking like a stone. He’s released, no longer physically restrained, but he knows the second he steps foot outside of the inn the whole of the Academy will know. He’s trapped, corralled in and unable to leave.

Jim stares at Amelia, begging her with his eyes, and finds no give. He sweeps his eyes over the crowd, and that's when he spots the man behind her.

Leland is standing there, half hidden behind Amelia and another high ranking officer Jim has never met. His face is twisted with concern, but Jim knows it’s false.

He’s pissed, and he knows it’s showing on his face. 

“You.” He breathes, rage making his voice hoarse and weak. 

Leland takes one step back, looking frightened, but Jim is faster. He’s already leaping at he man.

“You fucking traitor!” He snarls, shoving his father back. “You fucking sold them out!” 

“I did it to protect you, Jimmy.” Leland pleads and backs up, placing himself behind a shield of officers.

“Bullshit! You lying fuckin-” 

His reply is cut off as he’s shoved back into the room. Leland looks like he wants to slip out, but a set of cuffs around his own wrists keep him immobile. Jim is hemmed in, unable to leave and with no options available to him.  His chest is heaving. Anger and fear wars within him, and his legs want to collapse but his muscles have petrified. 

The only open path left for him is the stairs, and Jim storms up them, not knowing where he’s going and not caring. He needs out. His mother’s head moves to follow him but the rest of the soldiers remain unaffected and standing at attention. 

Jim slams his door and collapses against it, tears pricking at his eyes. The room downstairs is silent, so he hears with almost perfect clarity when Amelia speaks.

“Gather the corps, we leave for Nassau on the hour.” 

They’re going to Nassau. They’re going to find the hidden cove of pirates and smugglers. Jim’s chest shudders with pain. The people he’s met, the life he’d been so ready, all gone. The ones that escape will be scattered, and those captured killed or imprisoned. 

Silver. Jim covers his mouth with his hand,  _ Silver.  _ He has no doubts Amelia will pursue him to the full extent of the law, and that could very well mean the death penalty. 

Morph rubs on his cheek, and Jim gasps past the panic. He barely even registers the tiny creature trying to soothe him. What the fuck is he going to do. What the  _ fuck _ is he going to  _ do.  _

He can’t leave. He can’t even warn Connor, and the second the boy walks into the inn Leland will point him out and things will be even worse, and Jim is crying and choking on the terror. Everything is crashing down around him and he can’t honestly say it isn’t at least partly his fault. He was naïve. He trusted that Leland would put his own well being above his vendetta towards his estranged kid, and the man used that knowledge to screw him over.  He wants to scream, to yell and hope somehow that Connor hears him. His hands are tight in his hair and Jim whines as he pulls, hoping the pain will trigger some epiphany that he’s been missing. 

Morph makes a gasp and pulls at his hand, trying to halt his master’s actions, and Jim scoops the shapeshifter into his palms and stares and wills himself to think. 

His window is open. Not enough to climb out, and the guards below would notice that in a heartbeat, but it’s enough room for Morph, and suddenly Jim is rushing to his desk.  He scribbles a note. It’s messy and the frantic energy shines through in the way his pen blots the paper before he controls it. His hand is shaking as he writes. 

_ Leland is here, told the navy, they’re going to Nassau. Under house arrest, leave without me. _

He folds it into a small slip and hands it to Morph. 

“Go find Connor.” He says, voice shaking. Morph hesitates at the window, clearly worried about Jim, and he feels bad but he’s fucking terrified and he needs Morph to do what he can’t. 

“Hurry!” He snaps, giving the shapeshifter a shove. Morph trills at him, surprise and concern but then he’s racing off in the direction of the skiff, of Connor, and Jim lets his body collapse into the chair. 

All he has left is to wait, and that is suddenly the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Jim presses his palm to his mouth and sobs.

* * *

The worst part, Jim thinks, is not knowing. 

He has no idea if Connor got his message, or if the other boy made it in time to warn Nassau before the soldiers arrived.  It’s been days, and all he’s done is pace and worry himself sick from his room. Morph never came back either, and as much as Jim wants to take that as a good sign, he can’t find it in him to be hopeful. Not after he’s been crushed so thoroughly.

There are still officers from the corps idling around, but Jim doesn’t even have the energy to put towards making them miserable.  Jim spends the first night out on the roof. One of the officers notices when he climbs out his window and stands guard for an hour, but when it becomes clear he isn’t going anywhere they wander inside.  He sits there, body curled into a ball on the hard slates. The sun sets and Jim stays out, holding out hope that if he stays long enough he’ll see a sign, something to indicate that his message has been received.  He stays stubbornly put even as the sky opens up and drizzles icy rain onto the tiles around him, then as the rain increases in speed and volume until it’s a frenzy. Through it all Jim folds his arms around himself, even as he’s shaking and shivering and there are hot tears pouring down his face alongside the rain. 

Sometime around midnight his mother shouts for him, and Jim forces himself to get up and clamber inside. The fear on her face when she sees him looking like a drowned shiprat almost knocks some sense into him, but he remembers his own terror that had been temporarily numbed by the chill and everything ceases to matter anymore.  She shoves him into a warm shower, saying something about hypothermia and what the hell he was thinking, but Jim isn’t listening. He lets her mother him and put him to bed with a thick quilt and promises to tell her if he starts feeling poorly, but his mind is far away.

He’s fine by the next day, and Jim nonsensically wishes he wasn’t. Maybe if Amelia saw how badly he’s faring she’d let him go.  It’s a stupid thought, Jim knows, but hope is all he has left, and even that is dying. 

His mom tries to get him to eat, but the first meal he tries to force down returns not an hour later. Anything more than a bite or two and he’s retching up more bile than food, and soon Jim resorts to drinking sips of broth throughout the day to try and stay functioning. It’s for his mother’s sake more than his own, they’re both aware. If he had his way Jim would be several days into a hunger strike by now, but she pleads with him if he doesn’t at least try, so he humors her. 

The night he gets drunk, four days after Jim is detained, is the first time he really breaks down. His mother berates him, when she finds him leaning against the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, but even drunk Jim can tell it’s fear rather than true anger. His stomach rebels even further the next day, but it isn’t the hangover that makes him regret his lapse in judgement. 

All of the things he’s been keeping at bay are present, a barrage of mental images and terrible possibilities playing out before his eyes, and he can’t stop them anymore. Apparently even the minute amount of control he has over himself while sober is enough to keep him sane, but that is washed away with the drink.  His mother holds him as he sobs, half collapsed in the pantry and too scared to even feel embarrassed for crying like a little boy again. His mother never tries to shush him, just hugs him as tightly as she can.

The days are starting to blur together for Jim, everything falling into one unidentifiable mess of time and feeling ill at irregular intervals. Leland shows up a day or so after Jim gets drunk, accompanied by a few officers. He tries to talk to Sarah, and Jim wants more than anything to hurt him but the soldiers kept them apart, with what is clearly significantly more effort than they’d prepared to use.

His mother does the deed for him. As soon as the man sets foot into the inn she’s shouting him out of her sight. When Leland presses, the sharp crack of a slap echoes throughout the inn. Her anger makes it clear he is not and will never be welcome, not after the shit he’s put Jim through.  The soldiers leave, and Jim doesn’t see Leland again. He hears from his mother that his trial has been expedited, and that he’s been sent to a low security prison for his crimes. 

Much as Jim wants to take solace in that, he can’t. He knows the sentence has been reduced, thanks to Leland selling out his conspirators. 

It’s a week before Amelia shows again. The entire time Jim is fighting nausea and biting his lips raw. He stays camped at his window, watching the path up to the inn and waiting any moment for a troupe to walk up and inform him of what they’ve found. 

He knows that’s a luxury he likely won’t get. They don’t usually tell convicted criminals the status of their allies, if they’ve been taken into custody or are still free. The anxiety is chomping away at him like it’s a physical beast, gnawing holes in his stomach and keeping him awake at all hours of the night. 

Jim feels his stomach heave when he sees Amelia, just her, walking up the path. There’s nobody with her, meaning she has to be delivering news. He wants to be sick, but he his stomach is freshly empty as of an hour ago and he hasn’t had the strength to try his mother’s latest attempt to feed him. All he can do is tap his foot on the floor of his room and hold his breath.  As soon as the door opens he rushes to the stairs, stopping at the landing when Amelia’s eyes land on him. She’s standing in front of Sarah, a frown on her lips and arms folded behind her back. The rest of the room is empty, business has been scarcer since word got around that Jim was under house arrest, and he’d feel guilty about that if he had any room for anything beyond terror.

“It would appear, mister Hawkins, that the crews at Nassau were alerted to our imminent arrival.”

Jim doesn’t dare hope, but his breathing returns.

“What?” 

“We found ample evidence that a temporary residence had been set up, but there were no ships in the vicinity when we arrived. It would appear, James, that the pirates had some warning and were able to flee in time.” 

Her eyes are sharp, boring into Jim. She knows it was him, that he somehow got word out, but she has no way to prove it. His heart is hammering in his chest, relieved despite the very real hazards still before him. 

“They’re gone?” 

Amelia’s lips thin, pressed together into a line, and she turns back to Sarah. Jim takes that as his cue to leave and turns, standing in the hallway.

“Until the pirates have been located James will stay here under house arrest. If he leaves he will be convicted of obstruction of justice and prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” 

Her tone softens, just slightly.

“Please, Mrs. Hawkins, keep him here. This was the only way I could prevent him from being thrown with the convicted pirates. At least he will be safe if he obeys the house arrest.” 

Jim doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation. He walks back to his room, numbness and relief swirling around inside him. They got away. Nassau wasn’t discovered. 

He still breaks down into tears, completely overwhelmed. 

* * *

Jim is elated at the news of Nassau’s escape, at first, but his energy soon sapped away again. He’s still under house arrest, and can’t leave. Even if he could, he has no idea where those who made up Nassau have gone. Jim keeps waiting, hoping by turns that Silver will show up to save him and praying that they all stay away. 

A few days later Amelia returns, this time with a small envoy of officers behind her.  Jim finds himself taken from where he’d been staring forlornly out the bay window and led into the backroom. He drops down into a seat at the small table, Amelia sitting across from him. Her face is hard, but she doesn’t look angry. The moment she’d looked at him, the stress lines under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders, her righteous anger had faded into mere disappointment. 

They sit in silence, for a long time. 

“I know you warned them, James.” She says, quietly. 

Jim doesn’t say anything. He raises his wrist with the tracker, dull eyes showing his exhaustion. Amelia frowns at him. 

“Yes, I’m aware, but I cannot see another way that they would have known we were coming.” 

Jim stays silent. 

“If you know where they went and are refusing to tell me, you are aware that you could be convicted of obstruction of justice on top of everything else.”

Jim finds an ounce of energy to be angry.

“Why should I tell you? I’m already convicted one way or another. By your own admittance I’m a criminal, why the fuck should I give up the one place that hasn’t made my life miserable?” 

It’s maybe a bit cruel to put that on her, he knows she’s doing what she thinks is right, but he’s so tired and has no more patience for Amelia and her exasperation. 

“I don’t know where they are.” He enunciates every word clearly. “For all I know I’ll never see them again, but you only care about making sure I obey the letter of the law to a fucking-”

“Mr. Hawkins.” Amelia cuts him off. She’s annoyed, she’s tired. 

A sigh, and Jim never honestly thought he would hear that out of her.

“Do you have any idea, any at all, that you’re willing to share?” She asks.

Jim’s anger fades, and he hates that he can tell her everything he knows.

“I think we both know if I did I’d already be on the way there.” 

He doesn’t disguise the hurt in his voice. He’s miserable, he hasn’t slept more than three hours at once all week, sick with worry and loneliness. His bed doesn’t feel the same, without Silver. It’s returning from the Legacy all over again, except worse. He can’t close his eyes without feeling Silver’s arms around him, hearing him murmur comfort, and the loss when he wakes is painful in it’s clarity. 

He thinks about the animals he’s read about, in some of his textbooks, the ones that mate for life. One partner dies and the other will just... waste away.  It’s morbid, but it feels applicable. For all he knows they’re lying to him, and they’ve already found Nassau. Amelia might be trying to save him from finding out by pretending to interrogate him.

He cuts off that line of thought before it veers even further out of control.

Amelia sighs. 

The solid clunk of something being set down on the table would have startled Jim, if he were even remotely aware of his surroundings, but all he does is roll his eyes to the item being pushed towards him. 

It’s the gun. It’s  _ Silver’s  _ gun. 

Jim reaches for it, energized for the first time, before pausing and looking to Amelia.  She is pointedly looking at the door, away from Jim and the table entirely. 

“As there could be found no identifying markings on the weapon, standard practice is to return it to it’s rightful owner.” 

Her eyes snap to him again.

“I trust, James, that since this weapon is now listed under your name, that you will take great pains to ensure it is used for self defense only.” 

A clunk and a scrape sounds as Jim tucks the gun into his jacket. He doesn’t say a word, and neither does she. They both know this is her doing him a favor, and Jim isn’t going to push his luck, not right now.

She picks up and leaves, and Jim just sits at the table, numb to the world and hand tracing the gun under his coat. He’ll get up in a minute, go find something that should be distracting but will just end up with him biting his nails and fighting back more nausea.

The sound of Amelia talking reaches him, though the slightly open door, and Jim listens with one ear when he hears his name.

“I do not believe Mr. Hawkins presents a danger in his current state. I recommend lifting the house arrest, and returning him to civilian standing.” 

He blinks. What is she doing?

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but I don’t understand.” 

Amelia sighs. 

“James is a fine young man. He’s made some mistakes, but I truly believe that, given a second chance, he will not be reoffending.” 

That sounds like it’s being deliberately said slightly too loud, and Jim peeks over his shoulder. 

He catches eyes with Amelia, and the look on her face is stoic, but he can read her well enough to see regret. She believes she did this to him, isolated him from the one thing he loved, and this is her way of repaying him. 

“And besides, he has never done anything to warrant imprisonment, even within his own home. He was coerced and taken against his will, and I trust he has seen the error of his ways.”

Their eyes meet, briefly, and Jim sees something like hope in her gaze, but then she’s looking away and the moment ends.  They both know it’s a feeble hope, but Amelia seems resigned to it, now. Part of Jim feels guilty, wishing he could be the troubled kid she thought had been fixed, but this runs deeper than that. He’s not a kid anymore, and they both know the path he’s chosen isn’t compatible with being on her good side. 

* * *

It can’t be far past midnight when Jim wakes up.

At first he just sighs. He’s gotten used to this, in the past weeks.  The house arrest has been lifted and his tracker removed, but Jim has stayed put. A couple times he’d packed his bag and gotten as far as the docks before he realized that he doesn’t even know where to go anymore. Nassau could be anywhere, scattered to the wind or halfway across the galaxy or anywhere in between.  Part of him is scared to search them out, he’ll admit to himself. With how protective Annie had been of the place, he fears she might think he’d been the one to sell them out instead of his father. 

Jim rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, blue in the faint light. The window casts a harsh shadow across his bed, and from where he’s laying he can see a fraction of the view down the path to the inn. 

He’s permanently exhausted, but Jim can’t sleep through the night to save his life. Sometimes he wakes up from a nightmare, the phantom sound of a rope pulling suddenly taut jerking him awake and leaving him sobbing and shaken. Sometimes he finds himself wrapped around a pillow, and weeps when he realizes that his body is trying to find the comfort of Silver’s embrace to calm him, the way he so badly wants.

It takes him a long time to notice the faint sound of something bonking against his window. 

He leaps up, suddenly wide awake. Jim stumbles in his rush over to the window, shoving it open and hoping he hasn’t just let a wild rat into his room in his hopeful hail mary. In the silence and stillness that follows, Jim can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat in his ears. He wonders if the sound was ever there at all, in that handful of seconds, wonders if he’s so sleep deprived and hungry that he’s hallucinating.

Something small and squishy and cooing hurtles inside, mashing against his chest and making Jim’s heart clench. It’s Morph, he’s back. Jim grabs him from where he’s dancing around the boy, forcing Morph as close to his face as he can get. 

The shapeshifter doesn’t look distressed by this. In fact, he looks so enormously pleased to see Jim that it’s honestly a little calming by itself. 

Before Jim has a chance to try and interrogate him, Morph slips out of his grasp and darts back out the window, chirping and making like he does when he wants to show Jim something. 

In no time flat Jim has his pants and coat on and is slinging his bag over his shoulder. His boots are still loose and not tightened correctly, the laces threatening to trip him with every step, but he doesn’t care. He heaves himself out his window, dropping to the ground as stealthily as he can and running to follow the sounds of Morph trilling and cooing. 

Picking his way down the docks is precarious without a light, but the light coming off the spaceport give him enough to see as he rounds the edge of the deep black shadows cast by the house. He can see the docks, silhouetted against the grey-blue canyon, and there’s one more ship than there should be.  It’s totally unobtrusive, except that Jim knew it would be here. Morph is already dancing around it, as if to show Jim where to go, like he needs it when he can hear Silver moving to stand up and meet him. 

He rushes at him, a sob escaping. His bag thumps into the bottom of the ship and the older man hasn’t even fully sat up before Jim is collapsing onto him and gripping his shirt in his hands. 

He’s crying, silent gasps shaking his chest. All the fear and pain of the last few weeks comes out in full force as Jim finally allows himself the room to relax. Silver’s arms come up around him, holding the boy tenderly and nuzzling into his hair. 

Jim buries his face in the older man’s shoulder, wanting so badly to curl into Silver’s side under his jacket and refuse to leave ever again. 

“God, they told me Nassau was gone, but I didn’t know if you got away…” He’s mumbling, and the words quickly devolve into utter nonsense. Jim doesn’t stop until Silver squeezes him with the left arm around his back, the right running up into his hair to cup the back of his head. 

“Shhh, it’s alright. Connor arrived with yer message, Annie managed to get everyone out before the navy came knocking.” 

He says the words into Jim’s hair, his nose working to pull in the probably distressed scent. Jim makes a concerted effort to breathe, to calm himself down.  The sniffling is briefly under control before Jim breaks down all over again.

“I’m sorry. It was Leland, he sold out Nassau. He was trying to get to me. Silver it’s all my fault, I should’ve stopped him-” 

“No, Jim no.” Silver shushes him, pressing his lips to the boy’s temple. “Lad, ye did so well, ye don’t have a thing to be ‘shamed of. Only wish I could’ve been here sooner.” 

Jim laughs, rubbing at his eyes. He’s exhausted and stressed, but he’s finally with Silver again, and the rest of it doesn’t matter.

The frantic energy that had carried him down from his window is fading, and Jim’s back slumps and he rests his head on Silver’s chest. Morph has tucked himself into Jim’s breast pocket, slightly squished between them but humming happily. 

Silver isn’t letting him go. He’s mouthing comfort to the top of Jim’s head, stroking down his back and purring low in his chest. Jim tips his head back and presses their foreheads together, his breath still shaky with relief. 

“ _ Fuck _ , I missed you. Never leave me alone again, please.” He gasps. Silver laughs, Jim moving with how closely he’s pressed to the older man. 

“Gonna be keeping a close eye on ye for a good long time.” He promises.

His hand is still petting Jim’s back, moving over the thick material of the younger man’s jacket until Silver mutters something under his breath and slips under the coat. With just the thin undershirt between them, Jim can feel Silver much more acutely. The gentle pressure of his fingers, the warmth of his palm and the slightest edge where his claws are digging in, as if to keep Jim against him, like either of them need the extra incentive.

He relaxes, eyes sore from crying but soul a hundred times lighter. Silver seems to be calming too, the motion of his hand slowing to a near halt. His palm comes to a rest just below the younger man’s shoulder blades. 

The warmth of his hand is so familiar, and at the same time so alien after this much time apart. It’s only been a few weeks, he’s spent years without Silver before, and logically Jim knows this. But the few weeks past have held more fear for the other man’s life than Jim had in all of the years he was at the Academy. There was a direct threat that was never present before. Or, at least, not the specifically targeted way it’s been recently. He wasn't sure he would ever get to feel this again.

Jim breathes and turns his head, peering back up at the shadowed inn. 

It had been completely dark, when he’d left, but there’s a light on in one of the windows now. The window is the one in his mother’s bedroom, the one she moved herself to after his father left. The space is smaller, cozier, and faces the docks. The light is faint, but Jim stares up at it and he knows. Silver looks wary, when Jim looks back at him, but he just curls further into the man’s embrace. 

“It’s okay, it’s just mom.” 

He can’t see his mother’s silhouette, but he knows she’d seen him sneaking out. She’s always had a sixth sense for that sort of thing.  After a long, silent moment, the light goes out. 

Jim sighs gustily, eyes aching with sleep deprivation and stress, and turns to Silver with a smile stronger than he’s had for weeks. 

“Take me home, please.”

The older man’s gaze is still fixed on the inn, but he looks down at Jim in the dim lighting and smiles. He kisses Jim’s head, taking him into his arms again just to hold him close. 

“Aye, I can do that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the official end of the series! I do have plans for an epilogue sometime in the future, but it will be mostly smut in the spirit of the rest of the fics. The plot has been wrapped up! Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me, I’m kind of stunned by how big this whole ordeal has gotten. I was always writing this for me first and foremost, but it was the people reading and kudos-ing who made me want to improve and do better than just my awkward first attempts at porn, to the point where re-writes and a plot happened. 
> 
> Until we meet again, my friends,
> 
> -Bees


End file.
